Never Quite Normal
by Jessa L'Rynn
Summary: He can't abide his face in the mirror or the memory of what he has done. The silence has made him insane and the insanity has made him dangerous. At the end of the Time War, the Doctor takes drastic steps, with the help of friends old and new. Nine AU.
1. Prologue

_Never Quite Normal_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over, but so far all we're getting is jelly babies. We'll let you know.

* * *

**Prologue:**

The Doctor had made his decision. He had been a walking disaster long enough. Chaos and death followed him everywhere and he had finally become exactly what his enemies had always believed him to be - the Destroyer of Worlds.

He'd tried to kill himself six times since his TARDIS had opened up and dropped this new body of his on the Brigadier's front lawn. Lethbridge-Stewart, though, had been kind and good and, in his way, quite right. But the Doctor felt he had risked their hospitality and therefore their lives long enough. It was time to do something, time to try to find a way to forget.

He had considered the chameleon arch for awhile but eventually common sense had told him that it would only result in the same nightmares, only without his Time Lord ability to make sense of them. Probably make the human version every bit as unstable as he was, and possibly every bit as dangerous.

The Brigadier, watching him work, had believed it to be a good sign, because the Doctor working meant the Doctor wasn't moping or contemplating suicide any more, or dwelling, lost, on the War and all the things he had killed and let die.

But all the programming was in place now, the Time Lord was certain of everything, and it was time to let his friend in on his plans. He would need him.

* * *

"You want me to what?"

"Adopt me," the Doctor said, with a grin that anyone who wasn't the Brigadier would have thought was playful and happy.

"Have you lost your mind?" the Brigadier asked, before he thought.

"Yes," replied the Doctor quietly. "We both know that. And I can't heal, can't even try to get back to normal or even less insane if I don't do something to make it go away for awhile. I'm tired of fighting and I can't endure the silence. You can't understand what that's like - even I couldn't have imagined it before, and it is making me worse every single day. I need to get away, somewhere, somehow that I can pretend the silence is normal. Not just pretend... believe!"

The Brigadier shook his head in bitter frustration. How had it come down to this? After everything he had seen the Doctor save, rescue, pull out at the last possible minute, how was it down now that the one thing the Time Lord couldn't save was himself? He opened the file and read it carefully. For a mad man, the Doctor was inevitably meticulous.

"All right," the Brigadier agreed at last as the Doctor considered him with silent, pleading, aching blue eyes. "Give it to the weekend, take a little more time to try to think of another way. We'll try again with the mirror on Saturday. If it doesn't work, we'll do this."

The Doctor flinched, but nodded at last. "Of course," he agreed.

"And the TARDIS?"

"Doris did say she'd look lovely in the back garden. That's another reason I didn't use the arch. I'm the last..." He choked and sobbed and stopped talking for fully five minutes, rocking back and forth in his chair, muttering some chiming dirge that sounded like horror set to music.

The Brigadier came around and placed a hand over the Doctor's - his left, because he was still likely to lash out if his right was touched. "Focus," he said, after a moment, in the quiet voice of command. The terrible blue gaze snapped to his face, so alien, so lost, so alone. "I understand. She'll be safe here, we'll watch over her and put a pretty flower bed around her or something."

"Thanks," the Doctor said. After another moment of rocking, he sat up and sighed, his hand flickering over his severe, military haircut. "It's just, the Arch is an emergency protocol, the program's full of bloody great holes and I'd notice after awhile. Plus, it won't help, it'll just delay the inevitable. Eventually, I'd have to come out and I'll still be broken. What I've done here is more intensive. Much more."

"I see," said the Brigadier, not wanting to admit so much that he didn't, really. The Doctor's extensive file had a lot of detail, though, so it would take him days to assimilate it all. "I'm keeping this," the Brigadier added. "I think there are some things you'll want to tweak."

"Tweak?" the Doctor said.

"For example, you haven't mentioned your parents. Humans usually have them."

"Oh," said the Doctor. "Right. Erm. How about... maybe... Sidney and Verity?"

"Fine," the Brigadier said and jotted that down. "And which of them is my sibling?"

"Sibling?" said the Doctor, again quite startled.

"Well, if I'm going to be your Uncle Alistair, which I admit will be hilarious to me, I have to be one of your parents' brother."

"My mum?" the Doctor suggested tentatively. "Sidney doesn't sound like the sort of name someone would name a kid who's brother is Alistair Gordon..."

"Yes, that's true. Fine, my late sister Verity's big-eared brat. And I see you haven't explained your medical condition. I'll talk to Dr. Sullivan and see what he can come up with."

"Helpful Harry," the Doctor agreed with a morose half-smile.

"This bit is good, though. The keys."

"Yes." The Doctor sighed. "Give me two years if you can. The first key will let me out temporarily, long enough to answer about a half-dozen questions. You can't use it more than once a month, but that should be plenty of time. The second key will bring me back permanently. Only use it in case of an emergency."

"Fine, but I insist the keys also be taught to Harry and maybe John. I'm an old man, Doctor, and I think it would be a bit dangerous to have you wandering the world unable to break your own conditioning if the unthinkable happened."

The Doctor nodded slowly. "But nothing's gonna happen to you. That's why I've got to leave, so nothing happens to you or Doris. Because if I stay, sooner or later, something will come after me." He sounded desperate as he said this, a wounded child, hurt beyond fear at the thought of losing anyone else.

"London? You want to move to London?"

"Yeah. Familiar with London and it's a big place. Can lose maself for a while there."

"All right," the Brigadier agreed. "Last thing, then. You cannot be John Smith."

"Why not?"

"You know why not," said the Brigadier, grumpily. "How many times has UNIT had to pick you up from somewhere because you were John Smith and no one believed you?"

The Doctor sighed. "Have it your way, then. What's my name, Uncle Alistair?"

The Brigadier considered him carefully, took in the narrow shoulders and the injured eyes, the trembling hands (the Doctor's hands hadn't stopped shaking yet), the closed stance of a wounded animal unsure whether to cower or attack. "Joshua," he said at last.

"Joshua?" said the Doctor, and thought about it. He shrugged. "Yeah, all right. Joshua Stewart."

The Brigadier smiled. "Just be glad I didn't call you Ishmael."


	2. Chapter 1

_**Never Quite Normal**_

By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over, but so far all we're getting is jelly babies. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter One:**

_Three months later..._

Joshua reclined in his chair at his usual table, out of the way of the main action of the pub, but still able to see the telly if he felt so inclined. Not that he ever did.

The pub was filled with the usual crowd of the just off work, the disenchanted, and the daft. Since it was Friday night, there was also the weekend set of younger people. He thought he'd heard someone say that dreadful word, 'karaoke' but he wasn't worried. Maybe another half-gallon and he could crawl out of the pub and drag himself back to his flat, be noisily sick, and pass out somewhere where John wouldn't realize he'd been dead drunk again tonight when he showed in the morning.

John Benton and Harry Sullivan were his friends, but Joshua knew they worked for his uncle and, therefore, he tried not to trust them as much as he probably should. He also tried not to feel too guilty when they asked him what he'd been doing that week. The correct answer was drowning his problems - or trying to - but they wanted to hear how far he'd come in the book he was writing.

He was too busy maintaining his blood alcohol content to do any serious writing, although he supposed that some of the stuff still came out, like 'Kublah Khan' for a stoned Coleridge. It took a lot of work to stay as drunk as Joshua preferred to be, though, so that the memories... He took his last shot glass and upended it into his mouth, shuddering at the taste, savoring the burn. He never, ever wanted to think clearly again.

Infernal noise split the usual din, and Joshua summoned a waitress to line them up in front of him so he could float away from the cacophony. "Aren't you gonna sing, Josh?" she asked, teasing.

"I'm not that drunk," he slurred. "Don't think I could get that drunk, me." Which was true. This vague, detached buzz where the world swirled slightly and stars fluttered every which way across his vision was as high as he could get. It would have to do: unable to think clearly, and utterly unwilling to try.

"Ah, well," she replied. "Our loss."

"Probably," he agreed. "Better bring me extra, if I gotta listen to Rickey the Idiot again."

"Why do you call 'im Rickey, anyway? You know he hates it."

Joshua shrugged and waved a bill at her.

She took it and went off to get his order.

The noise pollution and Joshua's drinking binge both continued unabated for some time, but just as he was getting ready to stumble in the general direction of the door, the crowd burst into noisy applause. In his haze, he considered taking a bow, but realized almost at once that it wasn't him they were applauding for. He gazed blearily at the stage and nodded sagely at no one in particular. So that girl... what's her name, the pink and yellow one, was going to sing.

He sat back down to listen, because she was good. He remembered when he'd first met her, shortly after moving to London. She'd been singing with her miserable excuse for a boyfriend's band and, afterward, the boyfriend - Jimmy something, he thought - had gotten a bit too rowdy for the local scene. He'd scared her to death, but she still tried to calm him down. When she couldn't, when that wanker had decided to take out his drunken frustration on her, Joshua had stood up, abruptly sober for the first time in as long as he could remember, and taken matters - and the irritating little sod - into his own hands.

Rose - that was her name, pink and yellow Rose - had been absurdly grateful, dumped the wanker, and proceeded to try her level damnedest to become Joshua's friend. He wasn't a very good friend, though, never had been as he remembered, so he went out of his way to make it difficult for her. Besides, she was only eighteen, and he was crowding forty, and suspected, if he let her, she'd try to set him up with her mum.

When her song started, silence descended. Some American number he'd never heard before, gods only knew how she had, but it was strange and pretty and compelling.

He listened to the first verse without much impact, but the chorus-bit, that hurt. An hourglass glued to the table. Nailed to the frickin' table, actually, and the table nailed to the floor, and the floor a concrete pole driven forty feet deep into the Earth's crust. He had once thought, or believed, that time wasn't like that, not really, but now, he knew better once and for all.

He reached for a shot, found them all empty, swore quietly and dug through the pockets of his leather jacket for his hip flask.

She started the second verse. He took a swig of the burning liquid and smiled. Wouldn't do to lose the good buzz he had going. Wouldn't do at all.

_"May he turn 21 on the base at Fort Bliss. Just a day he said down to the flask in his fist. Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year."_

Fort Bliss is in Texas, he remembered. Of course, it's also a good description for a soldier, drowning himself. He looked up at her, blinking blearily through the rocket-fuel fumes of his own breath. He wondered if his blood could be used for a petrol additive yet, and would have considered that seriously, but he realized with an abrupt start that those huge brown eyes had locked firmly with his own, no intention to release them any time soon.

_"Here in town you can tell he's been down for awhile but, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles. Wanna hold him, maybe I'll just sing about it."_

All right, he thought, that's odd.

The alcohol started to rip through his blood stream, encouraged apparently by his sudden desire to see if what was going on would make more sense if he was sober.

The chorus again. _ No one can find the rewind button, boys..._ heaven help him, but even having the rewind button couldn't always save you.

She kept singing and her eyes never, not even once, left his face. He couldn't look away, even as the fog he'd poured so much good liquor into maintaining burned off, leaving him sitting there, clear-eyed, sweating, and shaking.

_"These mistakes you make, you'll just make them again, if you only try turning around..."_

Rickey the Idiot flung himself into the chair across from Joshua and glowered at him. "I hate you," Rickey informed him.

"Mutual, I'm sure," Joshua replied, biting off the words coldly in his clipped accent, and never once taking his eyes from Rose even as she left the stage and was lost in the crowd congratulating her.

"I waited for her to get over Jimmy. I've been trying for her since she was fourteen. You're old enough to be her father, mate."

"Probably," he agreed. "You're old enough for your wants not to hurt you, so what's the problem?"

"You are," said Rickey the Idiot, belligerently.

"Look," said Joshua, cutting the boy off before he could try to start anything that resembled a fight, "you saw what happened to the last stupid ape who picked a fight in my vicinity. I know you're an idiot, Rickey, but try to restrain your chest-thumping for when there's someone around you can impress."

"The name's Mickey," the boy corrected, coldly.

"It's Rickey," Joshua replied.

"I think I know my own name."

"Good job, Rickey, not as big an idiot as I thought." He got up from the table and left the pub, knowing full well he had better things to do with his rare sobriety than argue nonsense with a drunken sod about some girl he only talked to at a pub when he couldn't avoid her.

* * *

Not many people knew it, but Joshua Stewart was a poet. He'd picked that up from his mother, he supposed. He had only one vague memory of her, but even in the dreams, he could never see her face. She always wore blue, though, and he remembered that she sang more than she ever spoke, sang all the time. But the only words, spoken or sung, that he could remember were, 'I'm always with you. Always." Strange, really, because when she and his father died, even the photographs of them had been destroyed, burned along with their home and their bodies.

Even Uncle Alistair was only able to call up vague memories of his sister - she had been gone from his life since before Joshua was born, so long in fact that Joshua was almost grown before Uncle Alistair had known he existed and rescued him from the orphanage where he'd spent most of his early life, untouched and unloved.

Of his father, neither of them knew anything.

The volume of poetry he was working on was meant to be a master work, but he wasn't sure how it was going, as he'd been drunk through most of it. Still, he had two tentative titles for it, one of which would definitely go on it when it was published. Provided he ever finished it.

He got up early that morning before John was expected to come by for their weekend jog and started going through his notes. He'd already decided that four of the finished poems were definitely crap and one of them was heart-breakingly beautiful, but he didn't get any farther because the buzzer sounded from the door.

He sighed as he got up to answer it. Maybe it was a sales person. He hated those. Or a religious type - he played with those like a cat toys with a mouse. Maybe John was early, or Harry had decided to pop by. Maybe it was Rickey the Idiot, come to finish his not-credible threat in the clear light of day.

Or, he thought as he peered through the peephole, maybe it was Rose. He sighed again and opened the door to let her in.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over, but so far we're still only getting is jelly babies. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Rose looked around with amused fascination at the bachelor's clutter of Joshua's flat. "Cream?" he called from the little kitchen, and she grinned.

"Ta," she agreed.

"Funny word, that," he said as he brought in two mugs.

"Looks like you'd know," she said blandly, moving the large pile of thesaurus, dictionary, and lap top around on the coffee table to put her feet up. She picked up his notebook and stared at it blankly for a moment. "What language is this?" she asked.

He grinned, that gorgeous smile that lit up his blue eyes like starlight. "My handwriting," he said. "Got the world's worst penmanship, me," he added and sat down next to her. "Look it up, there in the dictionary, under 'illegible' - it says 'see handwriting of Joshua Stewart.'"

Rose grinned back. "Sure you're not a doctor?" she asked cheerfully and sipped at the tea. God, it was perfect, better than her mum's, which was saying something.

He frowned at her for a moment in some strange sort of confusion, then picked up his mug and sipped at it. "I am, actually," he admitted, gesturing at the wall across the flat. "PhDs in literature and linguistics. Nothing major."

"Wow, really? How old are you, Joshua?"

It took him several minutes and a bracing gulp from his mug to decide to answer that, apparently. "Forty. And you're not setting me up with your mum, so don't even think it."

"Eeew," she said, and shivered. "God, no. You're about her same age, actually, but... just, eew." She took rather a large swallow of the tea, thinking she might want to wash that idea away altogether.

"Oh, thank God," he said, laughing, and sounding thoroughly relieved. "I thought that's what you were after - and Jackie Tyler is just not my type."

She thought about asking what his type was, but was too nervous to phrase the question. She resorted to joking instead. "God, you're thick," she said with a smile. "Mickey said he got in an argument with you?"

"Exactly, he argued with me. Dunno what you see in Rickey the Idiot, anyway."

"Dunno why you call him Rickey," she replied, setting her now empty mug down with a sigh of real pleasure.

He shrugged. "It suits him."

"S'funny," she said. "'Cuz his name is Michael Richard. So you could call him Mickey or Rickey, but we've always called him Mickey. As to what I see in him... well, we were kids together is all. I s'pose he'd be ok, but he's not what I really want." She sighed as he overlooked that and jumped up to remove their tea things back to the kitchen. She was beginning to think she was going to have to knock him over the head.

Rose had known for a long time that she preferred older blokes, but it wasn't 'til Joshua had dealt with the Jimmy Stone problem so effectively that she realized how much older she preferred them. Jimmy'd been 25 when they started going out. Rose, at an impressionable (stupid) seventeen had thought it was brilliant, dropped out of school to move in with him and everything. She turned eighteen just last week, but she'd already set her heart on a new bloke, the one who was her knight in - well - leather armor.

He was never anywhere without that jacket, after all, so you might as well call it his armor. The jacket and the severe haircut had suggested a life as a soldier, but at a guess, that was probably what he didn't want to think about.

She got up and meandered around aimlessly, taking a look at the degrees on the wall, the telly, the two photos in their frames on a shelf above it. One was of Joshua with a couple who looked to be in their sixties, the other also of him with a couple of blokes, all three of them laughing.

She smiled. "My God, its so beautiful, when the boy smiles," she sang softly.

Joshua came up behind her, towering over her, but friendly, a tentative smile on his fascinating face. "D'you like chocolate?" he asked kindly.

"Girl," she said with a flippant wave.

"Ah yes, human females always like chocolate." That sounded so strange and yet so right coming out of his mouth like that. "Aunt Doris baked me a chocolate cake. Want some?"

She grinned up at him. "Yes, please," she requested.

"Fantastic," he said and loped off to fetch cake.

She plunked back down on the sofa and picked up the notebook. Concentrating, she managed to, very slowly, make some sense of his handwriting. She was reading, apparently, a lullaby.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" she ventured when he returned with the cake.

"I guess," he agreed. "Don't promise to answer, though."

"I haven't seen you sober before. How come?"

He snorted. "Thought I had a better chance to figure out what you were about if I was sober. Doesn't seem to be helping, actually." He shrugged. "Still, can always get drunk again, I s'pose. But John's coming over later, and I'd like to keep him guessing."

She forked a bit of cake into her mouth, careful not to drop crumbs onto the book in her lap. "John's one of your mates?"

"Yeah, you met him, he and Harry both came down the pub with me week before last."

"Oh, right. He's the built one."

Joshua laughed. "So he's built, is he?"

She grinned at him. "Yeah, and Harry's the pretty one. Never seen a bloke pay that much attention to his hair."

"Well, I don't anyway," he agreed, running his free hand up through his dark, close cropped hair. "So which one am I?"

She blushed and nibbled at the cake, taking her time, trying to figure out how to explain without risking him chasing her out of his flat. Finally, when she couldn't stand another minute of those deep, burning eyes smoldering into her, she turned and smiled at him softly. "You, Joshua, are dead sexy."

He blinked, obviously startled. "Me?" he demanded. "But..."

"No, seriously, mate. It's when you smile." She sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hit on you or anything." Much, she didn't add.

He shook his head, astounded. "Don't think anyone's called me sexy before," he offered tentatively.

She smiled and finished her cake. "Just haven't had the nerve s'all, I'm sure."

He just sat there, looking quite as blank as if she had given in to her premonition and walloped him a good one, so she went back to the notebook and read it over. After a few minutes, she had the rhythm of the poem and a snatch of music that would suit it floated into her head. So she hummed it while Joshua cleaned away the plates again and then meandered around his own living room, looking dazed and baffled.

When she was sure she had the sound she wanted, she sang the little verse aloud, very softly. Yeah, that was a lullaby. And pretty with the right words.

He rounded on her, eyes wide with disbelief. "What... where..." He shook his head. "That tune, how'd you come up with it?"

"Dunno," she said. "Just suited."

"It does," he agreed. "I was about to bin that one, but... with the tune..."

She shrugged while he disappeared into another part of the flat. She thought it might be his bedroom, as the door was closed all the time except when he first went inside.

He came back a few minutes later with a pencil and some paper he was already jotting marks on. "All right," he said, "sing it through."

"What, seriously?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind." She was shaking, she realized. He was bouncing with excitement and his hand was going over the paper at a mile a minute, but he still found time to watch her with those painfully vivid eyes. Drawing a deep breath, she started to sing.

"Fantastic," he breathed when she was finished, and those eyes lit on her, glowing, brilliant, so alive. He jotted some few more notes or words or something and then held the paper out to her.

She took it and stared at it in bald shock. There in her hand was the freshly minted sheet music to the song she had just sung. Across the top in a careful, sprawling script, was written, "Susan's Lullaby." Underneath in neat block letters, he had written "Music by Rose Tyler, Lyrics by Joshua Stewart."

She grinned, dizzy with sheer delight and shock. "Oh, wow," she breathed. "Just... wow."

"Fantastic?" he asked softly.

"Oh, God yes," she agreed and, impulsively, threw her arms around him.

He leaned into her hug, put his arms around her for the briefest moment before he drew away. "Thank you," he said softly, but his eyes now looked so distant and hurt.

"I... sure." She put a hand on his arm. "Joshua?"

"I need a drink," he said and turned toward the kitchen again. "You want anything?"

"No, I... I should probably go, since you're expecting friends, I guess..."

He swore colorfully and fluently. Rose had hardly ever heard the like on the Powell Estates where she grew up before. One of her mum's boyfriends had sworn like that, but he was a sailor. Of course, Joshua was obviously a soldier, so it made sense. "What?" she said.

"Don't have time to get properly shit-faced if John's coming over. Days like this, I wish I had a time machine."

"Yeah... no," she said, suddenly thoroughly annoyed. "You want a time machine, just to go back and get drunk?"

He came out of the kitchen and folded his arms across his chest, looking down at her sternly, the blue eyes blazing in his glowering face. "S'that a problem?"

"Not really," she said, "since you haven't got one." She sighed. "Thanks for taking time with me, Joshua. I'll see you later. Down the pub, probably. If you even remember my name."

And on that note, she turned and let herself out, feeling those eyes burning into her even after she had closed the door of his flat between them. She walked to the end of the hall, down the stairs and out the front door before she leaned up against the wall, shaking.

She knew she had no right to berate him, no claim to him of any kind. But it was annoying as hell, really. She would have liked to spend some time with him, get to know the real him when he was doing something other than drowning himself, and really, she'd told him what she wanted last night when she sang to him. If he couldn't figure it out, if he couldn't even stay sober long enough to try to figure it out, what was she supposed to do? Wait 'til he was completely pissed and then jump him? That'd never work... well, it would probably work, but it would never get her what she really wanted, which was behind those eyes, behind that smile, to find out why that heart was broken so badly. She couldn't help it. Her friends told her all her life that she spent too much time picking up strays, but all she really wanted was to help.

The hell with it, Rose thought, pulling out her mobile. He was old enough to be her father and he didn't need her or want her in any way. Besides, there was always Mickey.

* * *

Stupid, stubborn, human child. Joshua muttered angrily to himself and shoved the beer into the back of the ice box. He dragged out the milk instead, sniffed at it, and sighed. His milk never used to go off, he remembered that vaguely.

Fuck it. Fuck London, fuck sobriety, and fuck her, the stupid little bleach-blonde ape. Who did she think she was, anyway? If she'd seen half the shit he had, she'd never come out of her stupid little Council flat again. She'd stay with her psychopathic mummy, cuddle up to Rickey the Idiot, and live off beans on toast for the rest of her life.

He pulled out a beer, popped the tab, and chugged it. Or tried to. No more than a mouth full, and he spit it out in complete revulsion.

Fantastic, he thought sarcastically as he poured it down the drain. The little brat was getting into his head.

* * *

They jogged along the pavement, pace steady and strong, hearts accelerated, breath short and quick. John was chattering away, complaining, as usual, that Joshua never took off his jacket.

"Well, you gotta admit it's better than that scarf," Joshua reminded him, checking his footing as they turned away from the sidewalk and into the little park area.

"You remember that?" John asked, sounded winded and surprised.

Joshua never had trouble with his breathing, but John was older, so he could be forgiven, although he doubted Uncle Alistair would be particularly impressed. Hell, Uncle Alistair could still run circles around John and Harry both. Or over them, if he felt the need.

"How could I forget? That was stupid, I could have hung myself. C'mon, let's run through the kids area, get our hearts really pumping - well, heart in your case."

"You know, you never used to bandy that about."

"What difference does it make?" Joshua asked. "Harry can tell you. I'm a chimera. Means I'm technically two people."

"You have absolutely no idea how little trouble I have believing that," said John, grimly, and turned to follow him. "Nice to see you in a good mood," he added.

"Well, I blew something up this morning and I feel better now."

"Blew something up... God, D... Joshua, the Brigadier asked you not to do that."

"He asked me not to get caught, John, that's different. Besides, I had all that beer, and I thought I'd get rid of it. One of the cans flew 90 feet. Pretty impressive."

"You're still mad, you know that?"

"All my life."

"Don't I know it," John agreed.

They were silent for some moments and then they came out into the little clearing where the swings and other kids' stuff were. Joshua blinked in some surprise to see Rose there, again, with Rickey the Idiot. He was chattering away at her, obviously, but she looked bored out of her skull. She had even walked away from him, but she hadn't noticed the two of them, yet, as she leaned up against the merry-go-round, rocking back and forth.

He could never have said, if anyone asked him, why he did it. It just felt right, extremely right, perfect. He ran up beside her, grinning like an idiot, and caught her eyes.

She blinked at him in surprise and shock, and he caught her hand, shifted his around it, just so, and said one word, just one. "Run!"

She laughed a merry, high pitched twinkle, and took off after him, her hand still caught tight in his. By the time they'd crossed the path, she was level with him, and he caught her face, beaming, out of the corner of his eye.

It occurred to him that he hadn't seen anything quite so beautiful in ages.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over but, while we are now getting some interesting commentary on the Shadow Proclamation, he's still ignoring the paper. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

"I wouldn't have believed it, Brigadier, if I hadn't watched him," John attested. "I promise you that this is no prank." Lethbridge-Stewart's eyes relaxed somewhat from the suspiciously narrowed slits.

"Run?" He remained uncertain.

"Run," John confirmed, fishing about in his pocket. He retrieved his mobile and fiddled with a few buttons. "I'll give him this," he continued, showing the screen which displayed a hastily captured image of the Doctor and a grinning blonde running past, "he has good taste."

Harry leaned across the table to stare at the picture. "What does this mean? Is this the Doctor or Joshua?" he asked.

"I thought we'd decided to stop trying differentiate between the two," prompted the Brigadier.

"Well, the Doctor does have a habit of picking up strays." Benton reminded them.

"Yes, but…such a pretty girl…and he thinks he's human…" Harry seemed unlikely to complete the sentence in any intelligible fashion, so John did for him.

"Are you saying that you think the Doctor may become involved with her? I'm not sure that's possible. What Joshua might do on his own can't be known, but enough of the Doctor is in there to modify his behavior, and you know better than I do, Harry, the Doctor has never allowed intimacy with his companions. At least, not between his companions and himself…what they did with each other was their own business." John tried to calm the nervous surgeon.

"I don't suppose you've learned anything about her…a name, perhaps?" The Brigadier returned to the matter at hand with his usual efficiency. John flashed a triumphant smile and flourished a sheet of music. "'Susan's Lullaby'" the Brigadier read aloud. "Music by…Rose Tyler." His eyes met John's and flashed over to Harry's. "Quite an event."

"The plain truth," Harry philosophized, "is that it's still the Doctor and, like always, we don't know what he will do next."

"He remembers more than he should," John fumed. "But never about who he is! 'Susan's Lullaby' for Christ's sake! And he remembered about that god-awful scarf."

"Maybe…maybe that means that the parts of his psyche that deal with those bits of information have healed enough to become operable again," Harry hypothesized. He had explained to the pair of them that psychology was not his forte, and certainly not the psychology of a wreck of an alien, but he'd had to admit that he was the most - possibly the only - physician qualified in any way to deal with the Doctor, even a little. That Harry hated being out of his depth was always true, but the Brigadier found that Sullivan's best work occurred under these circumstances, like it or not.

"Or maybe it means that this was a damn foolish idea, and that it's falling down around our ears!" John retorted. The Brigadier thought of letting loose some sharp command that would silence the two men instantly from years of Pavlovian conditioning to following his orders, but he felt it best to let them get their misgivings off their chests. He sat mutely, and the argument washed over him.

Every week, these three guardians of Time met at the Brigadier's house and compared notes. Since they saw him at different times and in different settings (it was almost always Lethbridge-Stewart who bailed him out of jail for public intoxication, for instance) it was important that they coordinate their information. They also kept an even closer eye on the goings on in the world, careful of anything that may prove catastrophic and Doctor-requiring.

Every week it had seemed as if some new occurrence in Joshua's life might destroy the whole plan. John's intelligence this week was enough to make their previous panics seem like mid-afternoon naps. All three left the meeting unsatisfied, because there could be no satisfactory solution to this. Waiting was not something any of them did well.

After John and Harry had left, the Brigadier secluded himself on a bench in his garden where he could stare at the TARDIS whose hum was inaudible, but seemed to agree with the plants which were draped around her. He had to confess that he didn't know what to think of this young lady. Or rather, he didn't know what to think of the situation she had brought about.

The Doctor in love…the idea was almost laughable, but not because he was unlikely to love. No, the Brigadier knew that the Doctor had almost too much love to give. However, the Doctor had always been afraid of losing those he loved, and so refused to allow himself to become too close.

He was a hard man to love. The Brigadier had encountered this fact countless times, and that was during the course of their filial relationship. Yes, the Doctor was more than difficult enough to love as a brother. Romantic love must be nearly impossible - then again, he wasn't female. His own Doris was proof that women could put up with the most extraordinary things for the men they loved. Could the Doctor permit a courtship? Would he?

Lethbridge-Stewart thought back to the blurry photograph he had seen of an attractive young woman running hand in hand with Joshua, mirth sparkling in her eyes and racing along her smile. Since the Doctor did have such a great capacity for love, no matter how much of him may be hidden at the moment, the Brigadier knew that this girl must have an equally caring spirit. That was an aspect of her which could only help this new, broken Doctor, but only if he let himself be healed. Since the War, the Doctor seemed far too afraid for that to happen. Whether he was afraid of being too broken again, or convinced of already being beyond repair, the Brigadier didn't pretend to know.

Inclined to believe that just the act of being in love would be good for the Doctor, the Brigadier tried to chase away forebodings of the future, in vain. He worried that the pain of losing this girl, when she found out the truth about him might cause more damage than she had healed. The idea that she wouldn't reject him never crossed the Brigadier's mind. He had seen it happen too often at UNIT.

Her countenance screamed that her innocence had never been tainted by the knowledge of what was out there, and what was frequently sacrificed to keep it from getting in. There was no doubt that anyone so obviously oblivious would be helpless to stay when she learned what the Doctor was. He had lost everything, and Lethbridge-Stewart was desperate for the universe to give something back, but not if it was only a temporary reprieve. The Doctor couldn't stand for another loss.

The Brigadier sighed. Perhaps a bit of reconnoitering was in order.

* * *

He happened to know that Joshua would be absent from his favorite pub tonight. He had, after all, arranged it so that he could get a feel for his "nephew's" life and, with any luck, see this girl.

The Brigadier slipped in unnoticed and chose a table that was out of the way but gave him a perfect view of the whole pub. He got a few surprised glances from the patrons, but no one challenged his choice. Joshua was stuck having dinner with Harry tonight, and wouldn't be able to make it to the pub till near on midnight, if Harry played his cards right.

A waitress strode up, pad in hand, and asked for his order. Right before turning away, she gave him a kind smile. "Look, fair's fair, alright? There's a bloke who comes in here, every night, regular-like. He'll not be happy to find you in his seat. Ex-army, or something, he is, and I'd hate to see you roughed up. Why don't you find another seat, and I'll bring you your drink, eh?"

The Brigadier could have laughed. The odds that he would choose the Doctor's table were minimal, but there he was, being cautioned away. The old Doctor, before the War, wouldn't have picked this table. He would have either chosen the corner that would make him completely invisible or sat down right in the middle of the pub, the center of everything. This was a soldier's choice, and it emphasized the differences all too well.

"If you don't mind, I'll take my chances," he said with confidence. "Maybe luck is on my side, and he won't come tonight. There doesn't seem to be an empty table left." The waitress looked doubtful but shrugged, secure that she had done her duty by her customers.

As in pubs everywhere, you could spot the regulars right off. There was a young man full of false bravado, torn between joking with his mates and the match that was being showcased by the tellys scattered about the place. The Brigadier thought he heard someone call the boy Mickey. There were the silent drinkers, morosely nursing their haze. Lethbridge-Stewart got an instant impression of Joshua doing the same, right where he sat now. Several young men tried to pick up girls, and Mickey, along with the rest of his crowd, laughed at them good-naturedly when they failed, and cheered them on when they succeeded. Mickey and another were designated to get the next round, and the Brigadier barely heard over the presiding din someone yell a question as they passed.

"Where's Rose? She should be here already!"

"She's probably being held hostage by her mum. She'll be here. You know she can't resist a good match!"

By the laughter that followed that statement, the Brigadier was able to gather that the young lady in question was not a particularly keen follower of football.

Several minutes later, the door swung open, though the bell may as well have not sounded for it wasn't heard by any of the clients. One young woman's scream, though, did the trick of announcing the newcomer's presence.

"Rose! There you are! I've been worried sick, I was sure you had been attacked on your way here!"

"You say that every night, Shireen. You know I'm practically on first name basis with all the thugs around here." She threaded her way toward the bar with practiced grace. "I'm off limits," Rose said proudly.

The Brigadier wondered how she had managed that, but quickly decided that it was probably too horrible to think about. He couldn't have known the more terrible truth: Jackie Tyler kept a close eye on everyone, and had become a matriarch in the area. He watched the two girls hug, and then Rose went on rounds in much the way a copper might follow his route, or a royal circulate the room. All of the regulars, and the crowd was mostly regulars, got a hug. About half got a kiss on the cheek.

He saw her turn to his table. He saw her smile die. He saw the confused and maybe even hurt frown that took its place. The Brigadier lifted his glass nonchalantly in recognition of her, and she offered a brief smile before turning away. He trusted that her clearly churning thoughts would cause her to forget the details of his appearance. After all, he might be called upon to meet her at some point, and it wouldn't do for Joshua to discover how very much he had been spied on, though Lethbridge-Stewart was sure he suspected it to a degree.

Watching her, he found Rose to be open and engaging. There was no guile in her, something almost never seen any more. Though he witnessed the remainder of her actions as though with the mute button on, the Brigadier was able to watch as several of her friends consulted her. She showed genuine concern for their problems, and they always left feeling better than they had come. She laughed and teased. She seemed to be the bright spot, the focal point of the room, and she was completely unaware of how unusual this was. After some encouraging, she offered the bar a song, and the Brigadier heard in her voice a warm spark of humanity that would beckon to the Doctor.

Ill at ease, Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart returned home. He had been hoping to find some fatal flaw in her, which would drive the Doctor off. But everything about her was enchanting.

"If the Doctor were to love," he told Doris when he returned home, "it would be this girl."

* * *

What the Brigadier missed was Rose returning home, dejected. She had been practically assured of Joshua being at the pub that night. He hadn't missed a night since he'd moved to this part of town. She had stayed much later than the Brigadier, much later than she usually did, in hopes of seeing him again. He had taken her hand and they had run, and then he didn't come to the pub the next night. Maybe he was sick, she reasoned to herself.

So, after saying goodbye to the few stragglers that remained behind her, Rose had made her way to the flats where he lived. Joshua was just returning home; she saw him unlock the door and go in, swaying like normal. He must have gone to a different pub that night. It was quite clear that he was trying to avoid her, that he regretted giving her encouragement, and that he was trying to distance himself from her. Fortunately, her mum was already asleep when she got home, so she indulged herself in a good cry before going to sleep.

The Brigadier also didn't know that Harry was only too glad to release Joshua sometime close to midnight. The fake cheer and enthusiasm for his book that Joshua had been oozing was painful to watch. Harry had seen too much self-destruction to think that he alone could have any impact. As a doctor, he knew that a person usually had to reach rock bottom before they could begin to climb out of addiction, and since so much had been locked out of his conscious memory, Joshua didn't think that he had reached the depths quite yet.

Joshua had dropped the grin the moment Harry's door closed behind him. His watch told him that he didn't have time to get properly pissed before the pubs would close. He stopped at a liquor store on his way home. He was halfway to being as drunk as he could manage when he reached the pub, but Rose had already left. He drove home faster than he should and clambered up the stairs, still swigging from the bottle he clutched tighter than a life line. He never noticed Rose walking away, shoulders slumped. He fell into bed and let the empty bottle fall to the floor, futilely praying that he wouldn't dream.


	5. Chapter 4

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over but we have only advanced to threats against our time lines; he's still ignoring the paper. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

"I could call him out and ask him," the Brigadier suggested quietly.

"You promised him only for emergencies," Doris reminded him, equally quietly.

They were waiting at the door of Joshua's flat, but hadn't even touched the buzzer yet because the Brigadier was still swamped with doubts.

"You don't think this is an emergency?" the Brigadier demanded.

Doris rolled her eyes. "I think, as I've thought for awhile, that you and the boys are over reacting. As I've told you. It was a run through a park and they parted ways after. He didn't turn into a cave man or even a teenager, so I don't think you need to worry just yet. When he insists on bringing her home for Christmas, then you can worry."

The Brigadier sighed. "It's just... all the trouble we had after Miss Grant got married. He was miserable for weeks and that was long before..." He pounded one fist into his palm. "The things I do for that man."

Doris shook her head. "Don't worry so, Alistair. C'mon, let's go." She rang and waited a long moment, puzzled at this.

"It's open," came a hoarse noise from inside, so she turned the door handle and went in. Joshua was no where to be found, but his flat was in a tip, books and papers scattered around as if he'd been looking for something, the cushions off the sofa, and a large bottle of whiskey lying empty on the floor.

Doris sighed. "Joshua, sweetheart, where are you?"

"Hi, Aunt Doris," his voice replied. "Mind the mess, don't think it'll explode."

"Joshua Stewart, what is all this?" the Brigadier called, sternly.

"I lost something. Can't find it anywhere." He sounded tired and very, very hurt. Then, there was another sound, thoroughly unpleasant.

"He's sick," Doris whispered to her husband.

"Of course he is," the Brigadier replied coldly. "He drinks enough for a small platoon every single day. And you remember what I told you about that."

The Doctor had once insisted, after being dragged out for a night on the town, that it was no use wasting good alcohol trying to get him drunk, because Time Lords didn't, unless they chose to do, ever succumb to the effects of alcohol. Well, she didn't care, not any more. Time Lord, ancient alien, force for good, and savior of humanity. It didn't matter to her, because he was only human now, a shattered child who had entrusted himself into their hands. She glared at Alistair and went in search of their nephew.

She found him, as she'd expected, on his knees in front of the toilet, sweating and shaking and pale as a sheet. At least he hadn't been taking actual poison this time. "Joshua," she said, softly, "this has got to stop."

"I know," he replied, quietly. "But it isn't going to." He uncurled from his position and flicked the flush, then lay down flat on the cold tiles, staring up at her with distinctly unfocused eyes. He didn't even have his shirt on and his trousers were spattered with bile.

Blast it, she thought. "Come on, up with you. Get out of those disgusting clothes and get into the shower. Now."

Slowly, meekly, he obeyed her, getting to his feet and shuffling around, looking baffled.

"I'll bring you some towels," she replied to that puzzled expression. "And what have you gotten in your hair?"

He ran a hand up and checked the sticky, purple substance with a quick sniff. "Hum. Grape jam, looks like."

"I suppose I'd better make sure you didn't destroy the kitchen," she said with a sigh.

"Thanks," he replied, his face breaking into that bright, brilliant grin.

She stormed out and found the towels, setting them on the hamper just inside the bathroom door. Then she went into the kitchen and found the Brigadier sitting at the table, flicking calmly through the morning paper. It looked as if someone had cleaned in here. "Did you..." she began.

Her husband smiled and nodded. "I can't stand a mess, you know that."

Doris put the kettle on and they waited in companionable silence while the water boiled. She made tea, three mugs, and set one in front of her husband and one in front of the chair where she often found her "nephew" slumped when they came to visit. Keeping the third, she leaned back against the counter. "Sorry," she said, "his milk's gone off and there's no cream."

"Typical," said the Brigadier and went looking for a lemon. That was easily turned up, along with a a knife and spoon.

"I wonder what he lost that has him so upset."

He appeared in the doorway, then, back in his uniform - clean dark jeans and a dark, drab jumper, with that ubiquitous leather jacket over it. He looked better for the shower, but still quite dazed. "Rose's song," he said quietly. "I lost her song."

Doris looked at her husband and noticed the guilty flinch, even if Joshua didn't see it.

"I used to have a piano," he added, as he sat down and blinked blearily into the mug in front of him. "Do you know what I did with it?"

They stared at him.

* * *

Rose was able to put off returning to the pub for the rest of the week, easily finding excuses to avoid the place. She would claim exhaustion from a day spent job hunting, or early morning interviews that meant she had to sleep early in order to be well rested. She insisted when Shireen asked her that it had nothing to do with him, even if they could both tell she was lying.

She'd done something truly stupid, this time. She'd allowed herself to fall for a bloke as in tune, emotion-wise, as the school choir she once persuaded to go on strike was without a single decent instrument in the place. Right now, all Rose wanted was to build up the walls she would need to go back to facing him nearly every night. A few more days of solitude and she was sure she'd be fine, but not yet.

On Saturday, Rose could no longer avoid the place.

"You told them what?" she demanded of her mum.

"Just that you'd got the job and wanted to celebrate," Jackie enthused, oblivious to how very little her daughter wished to go back to the pub. "You've been cooped up round here a bit too much the past couple of days. You're getting pale and peaky. It'll do you good to go out with friends. And, after all, my little Rose, working at such a posh store." She beamed proudly as if having a job on the till was as impressive as doing something useful with her life.

Unfortunately for Rose, her mum had hijacked her phone and sent out a massive text message to all her friends, telling them to meet at the pub that night in celebration. Rose had gotten back from the interview grinning with excitement but, upon learning of her mother's plan for her, the grin disappeared. There was nothing she could do. Already congratulations and confirmations were pouring in. All her friends would be there and they expected the guest of honor.

Rifling through her wardrobe, Rose eventually brought forth what was probably the only outfit she could bear to be seen in tonight. She almost never wore it, but her friends would be anticipating something special because she was supposed to be celebrating. This was just the thing. When a girl feels vulnerable, she decided, nothing can arm her to face the world like a smashing outfit and a fresh coat of makeup. War paint, she thought to herself, finding the exact lipstick to match and applying it with special care to draw all eyes.

It was nearly an hour later when she finally smirked at herself in the mirror. She felt reckless and confident and just headstrong enough to ignore the small voice in her head that whispered that it was all an act. It was the type of farce indulged in by children, and she ignored the thought that certain people would see right through it. She told herself firmly that it was not the type of pretense that would fall to shambles if he were to look at her twice.

* * *

Every night, Joshua walked into the pub with hopes of seeing her, and every night all he was treated to was the glowering face of Rickey the Idiot. In his more sober moments, Joshua wondered if he had done something to upset her, but he couldn't think of anything. The only thing that stuck in his mind at all was their impromptu race, but she had shown no sign of reluctance at the time, nor when they had parted at her block of flats on the Estate. Apparently he wasn't as good at reading people as he'd thought. At least, not human females.

On Friday, Joshua was approached by an irate Mickey Smith.

"What'd you do, then?" he began angrily. "She was fine till you showed up at the park. Haven't seen her in almost a week, now. None of us have. Now I'm guessing the only reason she'd be so upset is if you went and did something stupid." When Joshua said nothing, Mickey turned up the glare several notches. "I'm right aren't I? You just don't know a good thing when one's throwing herself at you." Mickey scoffed in scorn and turned away.

Despite the current hostility from one of the patrons, Joshua never thought of finding a new dive. If he weren't so busy drinking and hoping, he might have wondered at the intensity of his hope, at how very important her arrival was to him. He walked into the pub on Saturday, experiencing equal parts expectation and despondency. Each new night brought a fresh desire to see her, and the confidence that she must come, and each night she didn't appear. So now he tried to quell the hope that rose again by focusing on the previous disappointments, trying to temper the high so as to lessen the fall.

He had enough problems to be getting on with, probably. Still, this one was taking precedence in ways that he thought ought to bother him, even as he focused all his alcohol-blurred attention on practically willing her to appear.

Slipping into his customary seat, Joshua noticed absently that the noise of the place was greater tonight, the crowd larger even for a Saturday. After only a few shots, when he was still practically sober, the door swung open and a cheer erupted from nearly every patron. He dragged his eyes up from the empty glass and saw, through a glimpse in the crowd, Rose beaming as if she never saw a more friendly sight then a hazy taproom full of really loud people.

For a moment, he marveled at how the entire pub seemed to be channeling his joy at seeing her again, before he realized that the word 'congratulations' seemed to be floating around quite a bit. Then, the crowd parted to escort her to the bar, and Joshua felt his thoughts stop in a way that alcohol couldn't manage despite all his efforts to make it happen.

Since she'd walked in, all he'd been able to see was her face, but when her friends provided an avenue for her to enter the pub properly, the full effect of her left him breathless.

He knew words in languages people had forgotten here for centuries. He drew pictures with them, made them sing and dance and jump through hoops for him. Still, for all his words, he couldn't find a single phrase to describe her better than that daft cliche of poetry in motion, even when she stood still. She was a divine opus walking on earth, in knee-high, black suede boots. The high heels made her look more delicate, as well as taller, and caused her hips to sway provocatively with each step.

Joshua's eyes trailed of their own volition up the muscular legs hugged by black tights and he wondered absently for a moment what it was like to be a lucky bit of nylon. When she turned to say something to Shireen, he could see a floral pattern that was knitted on the outside of the tights, granting glimpses of her milky skin. The flowers disappeared beneath the shortest skirt he'd ever seen. A brief analytical thought surfaced, saying that the skirt had to be that short, as she wouldn't be able to maneuver if it were much longer, given how it hugged her round hips as if she'd been poured into it. The voice was soon drowned by sensation.

Her top betrayed her. Despite her efforts to look distant and cold, she would never be suited for wearing only black. In the corset top, scarlet satin played with the ebony of the rest of her clothes and lent it life, just as Rose did to all those around her.

For the first time since he'd first walked into this pub all those months ago, Joshua Stewart ignored the waitress placing two more shots in front of him. He couldn't tell if he was more drunk than he'd ever managed before or more sober than any person had the right to be. Everything else was an unimportant blur, but everything about her was larger than life and seemed to be transmitted through more than the usual five senses.

Rose laughed at something Rickey the Idiot said, her face lighting up the whole room as she graced the miserable ape with a sunny smile. Twin stabs of jealousy shot through his hearts and flashed in his eyes. He wondered, really wondered for a moment, what she saw in Rickey. Then, looking at the shot glass with self-loathing, he wondered what those huge brown eyes could possibly see in him, either.

Rose was half convinced that she could feel Joshua's eyes on her, drinking in her every movement with more craving than he'd ever shown for alcohol, but she told herself that it was her imagination. She was too afraid to look at him. She wasn't sure which idea scared her more, being right or being wrong. She wanted to look at him, all brooding somber leather and eyes that killed at forty paces and to fight herself, she kept a steady stream of well wishers between her and the corner he haunted.

After about an hour and despite her best efforts, Shireen dragged her away from the crowd, claiming the need for a bit of girl talk. "He's been watching you. This whole time, he's just been staring at you." Rose didn't bother to pretend that she didn't know who Shireen meant. She just shrugged noncommittally. Shireen sighed and shook her head. "I know you're pissed off, or hurt, or both, or whatever, but do us all a favor. Just look at him." With that, Shireen threw herself back into the throng with a gusto that made Rose dizzy.

Although berating herself for being stupid, Rose turned to glance at Joshua. That's all it was supposed to be: a brief glance. The intensity of his gaze, the almost palpable mixture of longing and fear arrested her and left her lightheaded. She couldn't look away, more thoroughly trapped than any deer had ever been when in the beams of a car's headlights. She couldn't move, not to run, not to approach, not even to smile.

A girl squealed from somewhere in the seething horde, and the piercing noise caused Joshua to blink. Rose was free. She almost managed a shaky smile before returning to her hiding place in the middle of the room.

Finally, enough of her friends had left for her to beg off without seeming suspicious. Still, it was nearly one in the morning when she stepped onto the street. She shivered in the cool air and wished that she'd thought to bring a jacket. She'd been too preoccupied with being strong to be practical. She could have cursed herself.

Halfway down the block, a jacket draped itself around her shoulders. Rose half screamed as she whirled around. When she found herself staring into a familiar pair of blue eyes, her fear disappeared, but her heart rate didn't slow down. Joshua fell into step beside her.

"You'll catch your death out here dressed like that," he informed her with traces of anger and concern dancing around the studied nonchalance with which he delivered that line.

"Yeah, but I caught your attention, didn't I?" She smirked up at him.

"Is that what you were after?"

Rose's brain was screaming at her to play it cool, but the truth slipped out despite her best efforts. "I'm not sure. I didn't think so when I put it on." Uncertain of what to do next, Rose just smiled at him, settling the coat more firmly around her, surreptitiously inhaling the scent that clung to it: alcohol and ink and something undefinable that she could only describe as him.

Joshua's eyes followed the line of her smile, and Rose licked her lips in apprehension under his scrutiny. His lips parted ever so slightly when she did that. His eyes came back to hers and he smiled, so beautifully, her heart might have skipped in its already too rapid pace. She smiled back, then, bewildered and longing, not even caring where she was going as long as she was with him. They moved through the foggy night, only an occasional dim streetlight for company.

She turned to say something, anything to break the strange silence when Joshua's hand snaked out, lightning fast, and pulled her tight against him. She gasped and a car, too fast for the neighborhood and the dense fog, went screaming over the spot where she had just been standing, horn blaring in irritation. She gaped up at him in astonishment, unable to move or even think.

Joshua wasn't sure how he'd known the car was coming; he certainly hadn't been paying any more attention than she was. He'd just known it, like he knew the names of stars or the meaning of alien dialects scribbled on the side of space junk. He glowered down the street after the driver and wondered if all his years as a soldier had done it. Probably. Or maybe it was the ears. He tilted his head down to make a joke about having better hearing.

Rose was in his arms, a delicious weight as she clutched weakly at the front of his jumper. She was staring up at him with wide eyes, panting still from the shock of what had happened and what had nearly happened. Her mouth moved to frame words of gratitude, but he shook his head, and she remained silent. Against his better judgment, Joshua leaned even closer to Rose.

"You kiss the bride when you congratulate her," he murmured in her ear. "Is there a similar custom for the newly hired?" He wondered at his sudden bravery but put it down to the way she felt, fitted against his body as if she belonged there, safe in his embrace. Again Rose's tongue darted over her lips and he couldn't help following it with his eyes. Plump and pouty, her lips were so much redder than usual, as though trying to be more inviting, which was, of course, impossible.

"That's up to you," Rose told him, her eyes scared and daring at the same time. Common sense had apparently left the scene because, heaven help him, he was closing the distance between them.

Until the moment her mobile rang, startling them apart, Rose had never seriously considered homicide as a viable solution. The word 'mum' stared accusingly at her as she hit the ignore button. Joshua walked her home, and Rose returned his jacket, but, much to her disappointment, there was no repeat performance. Only the memory of his shy smile when he left her followed her to bed.


	6. Chapter 5

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over but after three failed escape attempts, he's still ignoring the paper. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

"I understand." Lethbridge-Stewart said into the telephone. "I'll see what I can do." He put down the receiver and pursed his lips in thought. Doris chose that moment to poke her head into her husband's study.

"John's here."

"Send him in."

Benton was soon sitting across the desk from the Brigadier waiting to be told why he was being summoned.

"UNIT will be sending us some delicate materials that have come through the rift in Cardiff."

"Cardiff? Thought that was Torchwood 3's territory."

"It is, but they were preoccupied with a minor Weevil infestation, so the salvage mission was bumped over to Bambera's squad. Anyway, it's unidentifiable therefore possibly dangerous. Bambera was hoping I could get in touch with the Doctor and figure out what they're dealing with."

"I take it you didn't tell her that he's currently drunk in the East-end of London thinking he's human?" Benton's face remained perfectly straight. Lethbridge-Stewart raised an eyebrow in mild consternation.

"I asked her to send us a sample of what they were dealing with. It'll be here tomorrow. If we don't recognize it, which we probably won't, I'll use the first key-word to call out the Doctor. The first question can be 'what is this?' Then we can use the remaining time to figure out what to do about this girl. Maybe even determine whether or not this is even helping any."

"Won't he see through this? It's a pretty flimsy excuse to bring him back temporarily."

"What's the worst he can do?" the Brigadier retorted. "Be mad at us for ten minutes before switching back to Joshua? We need answers, and the items en route might be hazardous. Under normal circumstances, we'd ask him if he was around. So we bring him out and ask."

Benton just shrugged, his expression clearly saying "Your funeral". "I guess I'll be collecting Joshua tomorrow morning."

"No. I'll get him over here. I need you to collect the package."

Benton saluted and left, not at all sharing in the Brigadier's confidence.

* * *

Joshua reminded himself that he loved his uncle as he trudged through the Brigadier's house, heading upstairs to the room they kept for him, where he seemed to remember he at least had a change of clothes.

He'd spent the morning helping Aunt Doris in the garden. Joshua didn't actually want his relatives to handle some things without him around, things like moving concrete benches and cutting back large tree limbs. He'd known when Uncle Alistair called him about it that he had to be here, because Aunt Doris probably would have tried to do it herself.

Instead, she'd gotten to spend the morning cheerfully bullying him into all sorts of manual labor that she probably believed was good for him. Now, he had a song he couldn't place stuck in his head (this happened every single time he went into that garden), he was quite dirty, and Uncle Alistair still wanted to talk to him.

He tugged open the chest of drawers, found a clean jumper and jeans, and threw them on the bed next to his jacket. Rifling through his pockets rewarded him with his comb and the flask he carried with him everywhere. It wasn't much, but it might at least take the song out of his head, which was a start.

Harry and John were both there when he came down at last, and if their smiles of greeting were more strained than usual, Joshua was too busy trying to come up with an excuse to leave so he could return both home and to his drinking to notice.

Lethbridge-Stewart was cautiously opening a box marked "Fragile" in seventeen languages. He gently removed the contents from their bubble-wrap casings and placed them on the table they all sat around.

"Joshua," the Brigadier began carefully, "I need to know what these are. So, pay attention to what I'm about to say." His lips moved towards beginning the word but he was beaten by the sometimes loquacious Joshua.

"C'mon. You know what that is," Joshua said to general shock. "It's a Jectutian demolition charge: potentially catastrophic grade. Press green, yellow, purple, orange, orange, pink to arm and then red seven times with exactly 1.7 seconds between each depression to disarm."

"Of course," the Brigadier said weakly. He looked up pleadingly at Doris who stood in the doorway. She sprang into action.

"Joshua, honey, can you give me a hand?" she asked. "I need the platter down from the top of the cabinet and the step-stool is broken."

The moment they were out of even the Doctor's hearing the three remaining men turned to each other, urgently. "How can he know that?" the Brigadier demanded.

"Obviously the Doctor left himself knowledge of alien tech." Benton remained relatively calm. He knew enough of the Brigadier's unease was due to the disappointment of not being able to call forward the Doctor. "Although I have no idea why."

"So we don't have to call him out too often," Harry said with some certainty for once. "The less he has to come out, the less he has to be aware of what he can't yet face."

"But how did he fit this into Joshua?"

"He probably thinks he saw it at UNIT."

"Well." John clapped once and rubbed his hands together slowly. "This does solve one problem. Joshua can tell Bambera what she's got her hands on." The Brigadier nodded once, tersely.

The men heard voices in the hall, and wordlessly decided to table the conversation. Joshua trailed his aunt into the room and took his seat. He grinned at his uncle.

"So are we going to continue playing silly buggers," he asked, "or have I convinced you that, even if I'm retired, I'm still Major Stewart?"

"I'm convinced," Lethbridge-Stewart assured him. "In fact, I'm so conviced, I want you to do a consult down in Cardiff."

"Excuse me?"

"Some of our records were lost in the last change of administration. So, we can't identify some of the artifacts that we've recovered. Even though you've probably encountered some of them, I need you to go down there and re-catalog them."

"I'm retired," Joshua stated flatly.

"It'll only take you a week or so…maybe two."

"Retired," he sing-songed, rolling his eyes and pretending to ignore them.

"Consultants get paid 5,000 quid a week plus expenses," Benton put in.

Joshua hesitated. He really didn't want to return to active duty, or anything resembling it. This repulsion warred with more practical sensations. "Fine," he spat out, somewhat disgusted that pecuniary considerations had won out. He was sure that it hadn't always been that way for him. 'Expenses,' he thought, 'had better include my bar tab.' With a nod to Harry and John, Joshua stood and left.

* * *

The details were determined over the phone that night. The Brigadier had wanted him to leave the next morning, but Joshua insisted that he needed time to collect his notes and had been granted one day. This would give him an opportunity to explain things to Rose, which was the real reason he had pushed for this time.

He knew that Rose wouldn't be at the pub that night. She had told him as much the night before, that she started her new job at Henricks the next day and wanted to be fresh so she could make a good impression. Joshua alredy knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't want to go to the pub after her first day, either. He could see, instead, her and Shireen, Keisha, and a few others gathering in her flat. Ice cream might be involved. He would swing by the flat before her mates could arrive to tell her that he would be gone. In moments of insane confidence, he even imagined that he would get her phone number.

The pub was less of a solace than usual. Well, no, it was the exact same, his problems just seemed more immediate. Something in him rebelled at seeing anything that hadn't decidedly originated on Earth. There was no way of knowing before-hand what had been dragged out of that gaping hole in reality over there. For some reason, he was terrified that he might find…something. It was a very specific fear, but every time he tried to follow it to its source, something would distract him.

Jenny, the waitress, lined up a few more shots for him. "You seem more down than usual, Josh. What's up?"

"I hate Cardiff," he told her.

She laughed at the apparent non sequitur. "What's that to the price of tea, then?"

"I have to go there tomorrow," he explained blurrily.

Jenny seemed surprised to be losing one of her best customers for a while. "How long before I get to see your smiling face again?"

"You've never seen me smile," Joshua reminded her.

"Well then, how long 'til you'll be back in here giving me your money?" she asked, apparently deciding not to mention that he tended to smile quite a bit when with or watching Rose.

"A week. Maybe two." He knew he sounded even more depressed than usual when Jenny offered him a comforting smile.

"That's not so long. Barely a drop in the bucket," she said bracingly. Joshua just nodded and downed a shot, signaling that it was time for her to move along.

It was nearly closing time when Joshua stumbled out into the parking-lot. As usual, he became functionally sober by just concentrating for a few minutes. He'd never been so drunk that he didn't think he was intoxicated. A brief wait in the cool air made him safe and he always indulged in it.

During this interlude, Joshua watched Mickey stumble out with his mates. "Half 5. That's when we should get there. Rose'll be home just before 6. It'll do her good to know that we're behind her." Mickey was probably reiterating.

Joshua's attention was captivated by this morsel of intelligence. There would be no way to talk to her without her mates around. The last thing Joshua wanted was Rickey the Idiot watching him say goodbye. A single solution presented itself on the drive home: he would drop by Henricks tomorrow.

* * *

Rose had already made a friend. "New girl gets the broken till" had been the general consensus when she arrived. She was told it shorted out about once a week. The store refused to pay for a proper replacement part, so Wilson, the chief electrician, patched it up as best he could.

Wilson was a natural brunette, but blond by choice, as she was. He was probably what most girls would call willowy, and nearly as flamboyant as Elton John. They bonded while discussing the various brands and shades of blond hair dye.

Being the type who makes friends wherever she went, Rose also found herself with fast enemies. There would always be people who had a pettiness in their spirit, who envy the warmth of others. Stephanie was such a young woman.

Capable of being very pleasant when it suited her, Stephanie used her charm to be the best salesperson at Henricks. She was introduced to Rose as the model employee.

"Stephanie," Rose was told by Joseph, the manager, "also holds the store's record for the highest sales on her first day."

Rose was genuinely pleased to meet her and promised to do her best to emulate her success. By lunchtime, Rose threatened Stephanie's record. Then her register short circuited, and Rose was temporarily out of commission. Rose continued to help the customers, but directed them to the other girls for the final sale.

A natural lull entered the store like the silence of the desert. Everything was waiting for the end of the day to spring back to life. When people started getting off work, it would pick back up.

Rose chatted happily with Wilson while he worked. She watched as the other girls grouped together in conversation. The group Stephanie spearheaded was only five feet from where Rose stood, and she could, if she cared to, hear every word.

"Have you noticed the new girl's clothes?" Stephanie stage whispered derisively. The smile died on Rose's lips, withering like a tropical flower hit by a sudden frost. Wilson too, stopped grinning and turned to glare at the group. Either the scowl was less effective when given by a man kneeling on the ground, or Stephanie chose to ignore it.

"That shirt has _got_ to be seven years old," Stephanie continued. "I didn't know it still existed outside of museums, garage sales, and piles of kindling for Guy Fawkes."

Rose looked down at her shirt. It was one of five name brand things she owned and she was proud of it. She'd gotten it on sale and taken good care of it. It still looked new, and Rose knew it flattered her.

"And her trousers!" Stephanie was on a roll now. Wilson had placed himself between the girls and Rose, drawing himself up to his full height. "I've never seen anything that was so obviously a knock-off. She obviously has no sense of style. She must have slept with Joseph to get a job here."

Rose didn't like to think about that. Joseph was a friend of one of her mum's friends, which was how she'd gotten the interview. What Jackie Tyler did with her boyfriends wasn't something Rose ever wanted to know about.

With every perfectly formed syllable that fell from Stephanie's lips, Rose felt herself grow smaller. She would have spoken up for herself, but she knew now that her cockney accent would do her more harm than it would defend her. It was like _My Fair Lady,_ only backwards. She'd gotten the job, but now she felt like she couldn't speak. Stephanie's words ate into the ground beneath her like the bile in Rose's throat, and Rose felt like she was about to fall. These girls were only working here to show daddy that they "knew the value of a hard day's work," while they lived off a trust fund.

Everything about her, it seemed to Rose, had been impugned, even her honor. She was dimly aware of a voice telling the girls off. There may have been a query about how she was, but it was too far away. She ran towards the bathroom, determined to not let anyone see her tears.

* * *

When Joshua entered the store, he thought he caught a glimpse of Rose disappearing down a hall. He walked up to the nearest person with a Henricks nametag, a man who was labeled as the chief electrician. With his most charming grin, Joshua greeted him, hoping this wasn't going to get Rose in trouble.

"Hi, I'm Joshua. Can I speak to Rose? It'll just take a mo'."

The man looked him over, appraising him. Joshua couldn't tell if he passed the test of not until Wilson spoke. "Trust me. She doesn't want to talk to you."

Joshua searched the electrician's eyes, but he was telling the truth. His demeanor held knowledge, even insight, but not falsehood. Rose didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk to him. He'd gone and screwed it all up again. With all the mistakes he'd made, Joshua almost believed a divine power must be trying to warn him off.

He nodded once and made his escape from the store, but pain and humiliation followed him home like Faust's black dog.


	7. Chapter 6

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. However, he's gotten loose and taken the paper with him. Heaven knows what will happen next. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

Cardiff was everything Joshua expected it to be, only worse. The work was more tediousness than he remembered from before his retirement. There wasn't a single thing he'd come across that he hadn't seen before. As a result, he spent no time exploring new languages or stumbling over new technology. All of his time was instead devoted to the paperwork of cataloging what he was sure must have been cataloged before.

The troops in Bambera's unit were unfailingly polite and they took his orders (which were usually "Don't put that there" or "Couldn't get us a cup of tea") perfectly well. Still, he missed the easy camaraderie he'd had when working with his uncle's unit at HQ. He remembered there'd always been a good-natured sort of teasing between him and his uncle, while Bambera expected to be called 'sir' at all times (he'd tried ma'am, she wouldn't have it). She also watched him like a hawk whenever she saw him, almost as if she expected him to suddenly start juggling explosives or something. (He admittedly had done that once, a while ago, but not to her.)

The local pubs were either so rowdy that the waiter couldn't hear his order, or so quiet that he couldn't escape his thoughts. The only one that looked promising at all was near the Millennium Center and gave him the most peculiar sensation of needing desperately to be somewhere else. In any case, he decided he might as well get drunk in his hotel room rather than make the foray into unfamiliar streets.

Often, Joshua found himself staring at the telephone as he drank, uncertain of when he'd begun and unable to stop. He knew it wouldn't ring. Uncle Alistair kept track of him at work and seemed to be content to let him have the night to himself. Harry was busy, John actually had a life, which was something Joshua tried to tell himself he didn't envy. Rose didn't know where he was, and probably didn't care to know. He didn't know how, but obviously he'd offended her again.

Maybe trying to kiss her. Maybe not kissing her. Maybe just talking to her when she was trying not to talk to him. Maybe she had wised up and realized that her new friend was just a soused old fool.

He just wanted to talk to her, even if all she did was yell at him. He cursed the telephone a few times in various languages which of course did him no good. The contraption was useless, conveying only a voice, not a body or a face or a thought, but Joshua would be thrilled for just a voice. There was a nagging feeling that he hadn't always had to rely on such a primitive device to communicate, but it was a hazy and unfocused notion, like the memory of a dream, or even a memory that had been formed in a dream.

Cardiff, Joshua decided, was his least favorite place on Earth.

* * *

Stephanie had, in one day, turned all of Rose's coworkers against her. The managers, fortunately, were immune, but her work environment swiftly became unbearable. It was all she could do nights to not give drinking herself into oblivion a try. For her friends, she put on a happy face. All of them were proud. They saw a job like that as a ticket out of council estates, and she wouldn't want any of them to be discouraged from escape.

Her mum wouldn't listen when Rose tried to tell her what was happening at work. Jackie told her that she wasn't used to having to work, and was just looking for sympathy. Rose clenched her jaw and wisely remained quiet after that.

She thought, she _knew_, that Joshua would listen. He would believe her, he would comfort her. And he came from out there and could probably return whenever he wanted to, so she needn't scruple to tell him.

But he wasn't there. The first night she figured he was busy, and refused to make the mistake she had last time. The second night, she was confused, worried. While Mickey and most of her mates argued over a football match, Rose silently nursed a drink, not really wanting to get drunk, but not really up to socializing.

Jenny offered to top her up. "Long day? You look like you've been hanging around Josh too much," she chided gently. "Turning into him when he's gone."

"I'm surprised you're not more concerned about him being gone. He must single-handedly pay your rent."

"Well, he did say he'd be back in a week or two. And I can tell my landlord to shove off for two weeks."

"'He said?' Did he tell you where he was going?"

"Cardiff. He didn't tell you?"

"Not a word. Guess he didn't think about it. Not surprised he told you, though." She tried to keep the anger and sarcasm out of her voice, with limited success. "Wouldn't want you giving his chair away," Rose told her, paying her tab and gathering her things. On the way home, she berated herself for believing that he cared enough to tell her something like that. She was just some girl from the pub, and he was the type to look after others when they needed it, nothing more.

She didn't even believe herself when she said she didn't care.

* * *

For a week after her first day, Rose kept her head down and did her job with as little interaction with her coworkers as possible. However, the faulty register soon shorted out again, and Wilson wouldn't be ignored.

"I've been wanting to ask you all week," he began without preamble. "Who was tall, big-eared, and handsome?"

"Sorry?"

"The bloke who came to see you last week. Older, into leather? All broody and sexy with a grin that could stop your heart?"

"You mean Joshua?" Rose looked at Wilson, sure one of them had lost their mind, but she couldn't tell which.

"That's the one."

"Joshua came to see me?" Rose asked weakly. She'd spent the last five days oscillating between fury and depression whenever she thought of him, which, despite her best intentions, was several times a day. Her hand groped behind her for the counter.

"Yeah, right after the coven showed their colors," Wilson began excitedly, but stopped at the look on Rose's face. "Wait…you didn't know? Honey, what's wrong?"

"I thought…I thought he just didn't bother telling me." Rose was now leaning heavily against the counter as her thoughts and feelings skidded into a u-turn without bothering to check for oncoming traffic, getting banged up along the way.

"Tell you what?"

"That he was leaving." Rose wasn't making eye contact, just staring at the far wall.

Wilson watched her for a few seconds in silence and she managed to dispel the dazed look for a few seconds with a forced smile.

"It's only for a couple weeks." The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. "But I thought he didn't care."

"Trust me," Wilson told her gently. "I saw him. He cares." Rose's startled eyes flew to his. "And I am so jealous."

The tension broke and they both laughed, not from humor so much as camaraderie. Joseph walked past with a sarcastic comment about circuits rewiring themselves. Wilson good naturedly told him to bugger off, but got to work.

When Rose went to the pub that night, everyone was glad to see that the light had been rekindled in her eyes.

* * *

Brigadier Winifred Bambera looked up from the pile of paperwork that had just been slammed down onto her desk.

"Yes, Doctor…Stewart?" she asked.

"Everything's been cataloged, sir," Joshua reported in a rebellious mockery of military discipline. "I believe my work is done."

Bambera raised an eyebrow while she glanced over the six page coversheet. The simplified list and descriptions of all the items that had been recovered would have taken her team over a month to complete, even if they had known what the items were. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. He was still the Doctor, as Lethbridge-Stewart had assured her, repeatedly.

"And the artifacts?"

"All tagged and stored as protocol dictates for their hazard level. Permission to blow this hell hole?"

"Permission granted." Bambera managed to keep her countenance despite his attempts to disrupt her authority. She watched his mask drop, and a grin suffused his face.

"Fantastic." He tossed her a friendly mimic of a salute and charged out the door as if pursued by demons.

Considering what she had heard from her friend, he probably was. She sighed and picked up the phone to let Lethbridge-Stewart know that his alien problem was loose on the world again.


	8. Chapter 7

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. He's back and he's brought something very large and very fierce and probably very hungry. We don't think he meant to do, though with the Doctor, who can tell. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

"He's here tonight," Shireen's voice over her mobile was a whisper against the din of the pub in the background.

Rose dove into her clothes - she'd picked them out special just for this occasion, and she wanted to make her very best impression. She hadn't seen him in more than a week, and he'd almost kissed her last time.

Well, almost was too strong a word, maybe. 'Considered' would be better. But he had shown up at her job to see her and, just because they'd missed each other, it didn't mean he wouldn't be happy to see her now. Maybe he had missed her while he was gone, thought of her while he was hanging around doing God knows what in bleeding Cardiff.

She'd actually decided that it had to have something to do with his degree. Maybe someone had dug up some old relic and needed an expert on languages. It sounded really exciting, much better than her week had been, anyway, and she couldn't wait to hear all about it.

"Who was on the phone, sweetheart?" Jackie asked from the sofa as Rose snatched her lightest jacket and headed for the door.

"Oh, it's Shireen. She's had a bit of a break down and wants me to come talk to her. I figured I don't have to be back to work 'til Monday, so I thought I'd hang out down the pub for a bit, sorta catch up."

Jackie stood up, detached the arms of her sleeping boyfriend, and came to give Rose a quick hug. "You sure are dressed up a bit for just seeing Shireen. Mickey said something about you being chatted up by some old man."

"Mickey talks too much," Rose said, trying for cheeky. "You know how he gets."

"Well, he likes you, Mickey does. And he's got a good job with the mechanic's shop, I don't see why you won't go out with him."

"Mum, we're mates," she said, firmly. "He jokes about it and all, but he's not serious. I've been over his flat twice this week and he told me to kit off the minute I got there."

"You shoulda smacked him," Jackie said.

"Nah, he was joking, Mum. That's what I mean. Blokes don't tell you to kit off at the door when they're serious."

Jackie looked dubious and shrugged. "All right, sweetheart. But you just be careful. I don't want some old pervert carrying you off."

"I'll be fine," she promised. "And make sure you toss that one before I get back," she added softly.

Jackie just grinned cheekily. It made her look ten years younger. Rose rolled her eyes and left.

* * *

By the time she had crossed the estate, though, Rose's confidence had deserted her. Her palms were sweaty and she wondered, desperately, what he had wanted to say when he showed up at her job. And if it had been something good, what if he'd changed his mind while he'd been in Cardiff? Ran into an old flame, or met some pretty Welch girl with a proper job and a family who could buy her nice things? Maybe she had A-levels and didn't have to work the till in a shop full of snobs who hated her.

The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. What if this imaginary girl was a doctor, like him, someone more his own age? Someone smarter, someone who wouldn't have taken up with the likes of Jimmy Stone, or who could knock him on his arse by herself?

Rose practically snuck into the pub, trying to avoid being seen too much, even though everyone in here knew her. Her bright little blouse felt too tight and too silly looking all of the sudden, her hip hugging jeans felt restricting and like they were showing the wrong features. She was trying to rationalize it to herself, knowing she was acting like a kid with a crush and wondering why in God's name she was even trying. He probably thought she was some adorable little child and had come to Henricks to ask her to feed his cat. Did he have a cat?

She sidled over to talk to Shireen and ignored Mickey and Trent when they demanded to know why she looked so worried. She and the other girl bent close to the table, talking like they had when they were first best friends in grade school. Mickey muttered something about "girl talk" and they slipped away, with expressions like it was a contagious disease and they didn't want to get any of it on them.

"Just go talk to him," Shireen pleaded.

"I can't," Rose insisted fiercely.

"He won't come to you," she reminded Rose, rolling her eyes. "He's nailed to that chair and besides, if he tried to come over, he'd just fall down."

"Be nice," Rose demanded.

"I am. He's pissed as a newt every time anyone sees him."

"He was sober that day I went to his flat," Rose defended.

"What, seriously? Why?"

"Thought I was trying to set him up with Mum. Scared him clear-headed, I guess."

Shireen and Rose both giggled at that thought. What Jackie Tyler would do with a man who could drink even her under the table... "Eeew," they squealed together, falling back in their chairs from laughing.

"Wonder why, though," said Shireen after a moment of happy silence.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Rose. "He was in a war or something, I mean he doesn't seem like the sort of person to just give up otherwise."

Shireen rolled her eyes. "Rose, let's don't go there, all right?"

On this point, the girls had long since agreed to disagree. Rose was convinced she saw things in people, Shireen was convinced that Rose was a bleeding heart setting herself up for being totally crushed one day. If the Jimmy Stone thing had ended any other way, Shireen wouldn't have said 'I told you so', but she wouldn't have had to do.

"Hope it wasn't one of those American ones," Shireen muttered gloomily. "I've heard they do things to people and stuff."

Rose would have replied, reminding Shireen that just because she saw something on the Internet didn't make it true, but Mickey picked that moment to come over and ask if he could speak to her. She nodded and he guided her to a quiet corner, making Rose quite nervous and annoyed because this table was far too close to Joshua's brooding presence. She could almost feel his eyes from here.

"Look, Rose, we've known each other for a long time, now, and I..." Mickey shook his head, and took another pull from the beer he held. Great. Everyone was looking for happiness in a bottle these days. "I wanted to ask you... ask if... I mean..."

She sighed and decided to rescue him before he had a chance to make it worse. "Look, Mickey, it's really sweet of you and everything, but I can't go out with you." She pulled the trump card, played it first because she really didn't want to hurt him. "What would happen to me if you weren't my friend? And when friends start going out and stuff, things go wrong, you know?"

Mickey frowned like he wanted to argue, but he wanted to agree with her, too, obviously, because he was trying to convince her he could make her happy. So his face shifted between several expressions and they made Rose smile. "I just want to take care of you," he told her. "You need looking after."

"No, I don't." She frowned at him, sternly. "I'm a big girl, Mickey, I can look after myself." She put her hand over his and gave him a winning smile. "You're one of the best friends a girl could ever ask for, seriously, and I don't want to risk that at all."

Apparently her brush-off tactics worked well, because he sighed, then nodded. "You're right, there. But you just say the word, and I'm your man."

She laughed and stood up, hugging him tightly. "Thanks, Mickey. You're the best."

"I know," he agreed arrogantly, and wandered back over toward the bar and his telly.

She turned away to go back to Shireen but didn't have a chance. Her gaze was arrested by stern blue eyes, and she winced, even as she felt herself drawn to him. She walked over to Joshua's table as though compelled, unable to break his gaze.

"That why you're avoiding me?" he asked crossly. "Givin' it a go with ol' Rickey?"

"I wasn't avoiding you," she mumbled.

"I saw you come in, you know." He frowned, looking a bit lopsided, then nodding quite decisively. "I remember that."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm so proud of you," she said sarcastically.

"Don't mind me," he suggested with an awkward flip of his hand toward the bar. "I'm extremely drunk."

"Yes, I know. Everyone knows. People in foreign countries know."

"Really? Fantastic." He beamed at her and she was lost in his smile. God help her, but she could watch him smile for ages. "I'm famous, me," he said proudly.

"I don't doubt it." She considered sitting down across from him, but didn't know how he would take it. He seemed to be mad at her for some reason, even though their silly banter continued undeterred. "Guiness Book of World Records, you are. 'Course my mum can stay drunk just as long as you can."

"Tell you what," he said, and downed another shot. "You don't bring up your mum and I won't call you the future Mrs. the Idiot."

Oh. So he thought she was going out with Mickey. As if. "If you're so curious, Joshua, you could ask me."

"Ask you what? Do you know the capitol of Upper Volta?"

"No, do you?" she asked, trying to keep from laughing at him. She knew for certain that that would only encourage him.

"Used to. Think I've been there. Or maybe it was Lower Slovenia, I forget. Where's Rickey taking you, then?"

He stood up then and started stacking shot glasses, as if to clear room on the table. Probably was, to make space for more. Something shiny and bright caught her eye, dangling from its chain around his neck. She flicked it with a curious finger, then blushed as she realized she'd gotten very close to him to do that.

"Doctor's orders," he said, vaguely as he sat back down, looking for all the world as if standing was definitely a problem. "Well, Dr. Sullivan's orders. Although it may be Doctor's orders, can't remember."

"What?" she asked, trying to figure out where that had come from.

"Harry says I gotta wear 'em all the time."

"Why would he do that?"

He frowned at her, his head tilted to the side as if trying to see what she was made of or something. "Isn't that a personal question?"

"Is it?"

"Yeah. No one else is s'posed to doctor on me. Harry's the only one." He held up a hand and showed her a neatly stitched incision in his left thumb. "'Course I can doctor on myself, but don't tell him, yeah?"

"Sure," she said, and snatched his hand, looking at the cut in some surprise. Had he really stitched it up himself? As drunk as he stayed? "What'd you do?"

He withdrew his hand from hers. "G'on. Run back to Rickey the Idiot, he's prob'ly missing you."

She rolled her eyes and leaned over him. "See you later, Joshua," she said, and kissed his cheek.

Or meant to.

It was like one of those scenes in movies or books, not something that ever happened to anyone normal in real life. But then, Joshua wasn't normal, he was perpetually intoxicated, so of course he turned his head at exactly the right moment. And then, Rose was pretty sure they weren't actually in real life, because the moment her lips brushed his, she felt the most unbelievable jolt and suddenly the whole world was spinning under her feet. She meant to pull away, startled, but she felt dizzy, as drunk as he usually seemed to be.

He flung a leather clad arm up around her waist to steady her, but didn't withdraw from her at all. In fact, his lips brushed against hers again and again. She didn't know whether she wanted him to pull away or deepen the kiss, but she couldn't decide or even move herself because the world and everything in it had frozen down to that single, heady sensation.

She whimpered in confusion and frustration. He jerked back, dropped his arm, and the sound of his chair scraping across the floor made her eyes fly open. He was looking down at her and his eyes said he was honestly terrified. She blinked in surprise, her hand reaching up to brush her lip.

He made a sound, in a language she didn't recognize, but whatever it was, it was definitely a curse.

"Joshua?" she whispered.

"Time," he said, firmly, and turned to the door.

She would never have believed in her entire life that anyone swaying that much could possibly move that fast. She just stared after him, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, when she felt Shireen's hand close on her elbow. Her friend was bouncing next to her.

"I saw, I saw, what was it like?"

"Where'd he go?" she demanded.

Then she heard the sound of a car engine starting in the parking lot and her blood ran cold.


	9. Chapter 8

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. He's chased off the big, hairy, snarling thing, and we've agreed not to tie him to anything for the moment. He still won't return our paper, though. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter Eight:**

Six blocks, Rose thought in panic. Six blocks and he knows it really well. He drives it all the time, he's probably driven it before, in worse shape than this.

She hated him just a little for that. Her mum had once hypothesized that the unknown driver who'd killed her father was probably drunk. Of course, no one would ever know that, not now, but she couldn't help but think that Joshua - who should be so much better than this - was risking his own life and everyone else's in his path, just for the general fuck all of it.

Fear and fury rose together and decided her. She took off down the street at a dead run. If he went home any time before she had to be to work on Monday, he was going to face up to this fact. Even if he poured in enough whiskey to fill the Thames, he was still going to feel her slap for a week.

By the time she had run one block, she was winded, even operating on sheer rage. Never mind. She was going to hit him so hard, his ancestors would feel it. It would become imprinted on his genetic code and his grandchildren would feel the twinge from it on cold days.

The sound that echoed through the streets surrounding her drove the anger right out of her. It also blotted out the exhaustion, the feel of the stitch in her side, and any sense of control she had. She knew that sound. That was metal hitting metal with force enough to destroy.

She might have screamed. Someone did.

She ran, oh god, she ran.

The scene she came upon was enough to stop her heart, or would have been, if it hadn't been pounding in her chest with enough force to shatter her ribs. She wrenched her mobile from her pocket for no reason she could think of, even as she approached the car - definitely Joshua's, with that inexplicable "Who 9" plate. Some bloke was pulling him from the car and he was obviously not conscious enough to help or hinder him.

The front end was folded in completely and a lamp post was bent over it, casting a sickly, flickering light over a scene she never wanted to see again in her life. Steam boiled up from the engine and it looked like the air bags had fired as well, so thank what ever god looked after stupid drunks for that. She knew, she definitely knew it was her who shrieked out his name, because all the bystanders and the blokes trying to help turned toward her at once.

A woman rushed over to her, fellow feeling probably. "Is that your husband?" she asked.

Rose shook her head. "Boyfriend," she managed to grate out. Even though it was a lie, it felt like the truth at the moment. Her stupid boyfriend who had stupidly driven while drunk as a lord because of some stupid thing to do with something stupid that she would probably never know.

This might be her fault.

She hated him a lot. Almost as much as she loved him, in fact.

She staggered over with the other woman helping her, wondering when that had happened and why in the hell it had to happen to her.

They dragged him to a blanket another bloke had flung over the pavement. "I'm a medic," one of them said. "There's no sign of spinal injury, he wasn't driving that fast...no idea why he's out..."

The men kept talking, but she didn't hear them. She dropped down next to him, instead, and reached out to touch his face with a trembling hand. He looked so still, so calm, so _wrong_.

She decided she would give just about anything to see those heart-stopping eyes and that maddening grin right about now. Something flashed at her in the lamp light and she remembered.

"Shit," she said and reached for the tags. It was a miracle she knew about them, a lucky bit of chance that was on his side, hopefully. Please, she thought, please let there be a number.

"What is it?" one of the medics asked.

"He's got a heart condition or something," she said, no idea what the real reason was. "He's not s'posed to see but one doctor." She fumbled the tags, tilted them again, and the medic held a large torch over them so she could read them.

"In case of emergency, contact Dr. Harry Sullivan," the medic read for her. She nodded and punched the number in on her mobile while he read it aloud. "Do not treat or administer medication without authorization. Absolutely no aspirin."

"Huh," said the other. "Must be allergic."

Rose committed that to memory while the phone rang in her ear. "Please pick..." she whispered.

A groggy voice on the other end of the phone. "'Lo?"

"Harry?" she said, softly. They'd only met that one time down the pub and she hoped to God he remembered her.

A cleared throat. "Who is this?"

"Doctor Sullivan?" she pleaded.

"Yes," the vaguely familiar voice agreed. "Who am I speaking with?"

"Oh, Harry, Joshua's been hurt." She swallowed hard. "This is Rose - we met once."

"Hold on," said the voice, suddenly all business. "Where are you?"

"About two blocks up from his flat. Toward the pub, of course, the stupid lump. What do I do?"

"He's breathing? He's... er, normal?"

"Yeah, he's breathing and stuff, but he's unconscious, the medic guy here's trying to find his pulse at the moment."

"Blast it all," said the other voice. "Look, I'll be there in seven minutes, tops. Can you call the Brigadier?"

"Who?"

"His uncle?"

"Oh." She sighed. "What's the number?" she asked. She snagged a pen from the same woman who had helped her before and jotted the number on the back of her hand. "Harry, this medic bloke's going nuts, can you hurry?"

"On my way. Thanks."

"Thank you," she breathed, softly, and clicked off the phone. "He says seven minutes," she told the medic.

"Good, 'cuz there's something right funny about his pulse," the bloke said.

"Joshua," she said sternly, "if you can hear me, don't you dare die on me, I'm not having it." She saved Harry's number to her phone menu in case she ever needed it again, and then dialed the number he gave her.

It rang once and then a sharp voice answered, managing to sound both groggy and attentive at the same time. "Lethbridge-Stewart speaking."

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir. This is Rose Tyler. I'm calling about Joshua."

There was a sound of quite a bit of movement. "What's happened?" The voice came with a sharp tone of command. A Brigadier indeed, someone who was used to getting answers completely and immediately.

She smiled in spite of herself. "He's been in an... I guess an accident."

"Thank you, Miss Tyler. Did you speak to Dr. Sullivan?"

"He gave me your number. Said he'd be here in a few minutes."

"Yes, he lives up your way. Are you hurt, Miss Tyler?"

"No, I wasn't with him. He's knocked out and the medic says there's something wrong with his heart."

"They would think that. Don't let them do anything to him, Miss Tyler, my nephew has a special condition that only Dr. Sullivan is qualified to treat."

"Of course, sir," she agreed softly.

"Chin up, Miss Tyler," he said calmly. "You can head home once Harry's there, he'll look after Joshua."

"I'm not leaving him," she replied scathingly. "I'm not."

There was a long, telling silence. Then, the calming voice spoke again. "Of course, Miss Tyler. We'll be meeting in about two hours, then. I look forward to it."

"Me, too, sir," she said quietly as another car pulled up. "Think he's here now."

"Excellent," the man said. "Tell him to call me as soon as he has information."

"Yes sir. Thank you."

"Thank you, Miss Tyler," the voice said, now quite warmly, and then he rang off.

Rose flipped off her mobile and stuffed it in the back of her jeans. "Hi Harry," she said quietly to the man now kneeling on Joshua's other side, taking his pulse and timing it with a wrist watch.

"Normal," he said. "Hello, Rose. What happened?"

"Something really, really stupid," she said and cringed.

"Looks like," Harry agreed, taking in the car and the lamp post with quick, observant eyes. "This had better stop, now, Joshua," he told his unconscious patient, "or you're going into rehab."

"Fantastic," Joshua replied faintly.

Rose gave a low cry of absolute relief. Harry stood to talk to the medics, but Rose didn't hear the conversation at all. "You're alive," she said softly, unable to stop herself touching his face, taking his hand.

He squeezed it slowly. "Yeah, 'fraid so," he said. The part that hurt the most was that he seemed to mean it.

"Oh god, I could give you such a smack," she shouted.

"Wait 'til he's more stable, won't you, old thing?" Harry asked, his eyes dancing.

"I'd've thought Sarah-Jane broke you of that," said Joshua slowly.

Harry sighed. "We'll talk about it later," he said. "Need to get you someplace a bit calmer."

Rose looked up in surprise and realized they'd drawn a bit of a crowd, which struck her as odd for nearly one in the morning. 'Course it was a Saturday, and what else was there to do around here?

The police had just arrived while Harry made arrangements for the medics to help him get Joshua home. Rose clung to his side, determined not to be separated from him.

Since Joshua was conscious, even though he was injured, the police lady made him do a breath test. "Fell asleep at the wheel," he lied calmly.

Rose didn't blame him for that, at least, since the test showed his blood alcohol content at absolutely zero.


	10. Chapter 9

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We've brought in the _comfy chair!_ and are getting ready to feed him the _yummy cake!_ He will sign, or he will SIT in the comfy chair! Oh... or he'll use the sonic screwdriver to turn it into ribbons and matchsticks... hum. After him! We'll keep you posted.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

Chapter 9:

Collapsed in a chair in Joshua's kitchen and feeling quite a good bit of useless, Rose answered her ringing phone with a gruff, "What, Mum?"

"Where are you, Rose?" Jackie's voice demanded.

"I'm staying with Shireen tonight," she lied, wondering if she was too old to lie to her mother yet.

"Oh good," said Jackie, coldly. "Because Shireen just called to see if you were home. Something about running off."

Yeah, way too old to lie to her mother. "Sorry, Mum," she said softly.

"So where are you then?"

"At Joshua's."

"That drunk from the pub!" Jackie shrieked.

Pot, meet kettle, Rose thought vaguely. "He's been in an accident, Mum. His doctor's here and his uncle's on his way and can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Fine," Jackie snapped. "But I'm going to talk and you're going to listen."

"Whatever. Night, Mum." She hung up and hung her head.

The tears she had been fighting god knows how long now finally caught up to her, and started to roll heedlessly down her face. She tried to keep them quiet, so as not to disturb Harry or John, who'd arrived just a few minutes ago, but she didn't know whether she was having any luck with that or not until a large hand closed on her shoulder and squeezed.

"I'll make you some tea," John said. "You just stay there."

"Thanks," she managed, and sniffled, and snatched a napkin from a fancy little rack to dab at her eyes. If she'd been more coherent, she might have taken a moment to think about how out of place it was, but then so were Joshua's dishes and she didn't have the energy to care. She just let the worry and tears drain out of her together and then settled back like a wrung dishrag.

John set a nice cuppa in front of her and went rifling through the fridge for cream. When he found it, he offered it to her. She took a sip of the tea, just to test, then added twice as much cream and sugar as she usually had.

Apparently John was used to making the tea really strong for someone.

"How is he?" she asked softly.

"Harry has him resting at the moment. He did want me to ask if you knew about his thumb."

"I saw it, he didn't tell me what he did. Might've been last week, I didn't see him."

"He was in Cardiff on a consult."

"Oh, right." She sighed. "I think this might be my fault."

"It isn't," John said firmly. "Joshua has more things than any of us can imagine going on in his head right now and he doesn't want them there. There's nothing any one can do about it until he wants to do something about it." The older man gave her a small, almost teasing smile. "I was actually going to thank you. I haven't seen him happy in a long time, but he was when he dragged you off across the park."

Rose felt herself blushing.

* * *

The Brigadier found the girl curled up in a chair next to Joshua's bed, clutching firmly to his right hand and obviously fighting sleep. Harry was in another chair, obviously dragged in from the kitchen, and he had apparently lost the fight.

The Brigadier shot a small, concerned smile at the girl, then at the figure lying so still in the bed. Then he winked at the girl as she smiled back. "Dr. Sullivan, report," he snapped in a low but commanding tone.

The girl - Miss Tyler - giggled as Harry woke with a start and stared up at the Brigadier with huge, alarmed eyes. "Yes sir. Sorry sir." He straightened to his feet automatically. "I had to sedate him, sir. The usual."

"Didn't want to end up in a cupboard this time," the Brigadier observed dryly.

"He wouldn't rest," the medic replied. "And I'm sure he hadn't slept in days."

The Brigadier nodded and sighed. "No injuries, though?"

"Bruised and banged up. Maybe cracked a rib. And he apparently nicked his thumb at some point and put in a very neat row of stitches himself." Sullivan sighed. "Idiot," he added, very, very quietly. "Sargent Benton was by earlier but he had to work today."

"Excellent work, Lieutenant," said the Brigadier, out of habit. They'd all retired, they all actually had different ranks entirely, but the old habits and the years they all worked together fell so easily from their lips, especially when the Doctor was around. "Are you staying, Miss Tyler?"

"Think so. Sleepy." She stood and yawned. "I can kip on the sofa."

The Brigadier gestured at the Lieutenant and Sullivan, though rolling his eyes, retreated to make it up for her.

"How long have you known him, Miss Tyler?" asked the Brigadier, kindly.

"Three months, almost four now, I guess, sir. Ever since he starting coming down the pub, anyway." She smiled dreamily and patted the hand she still held. "He's a sweetheart, even when he's a bit messed up. Still gonna murder him for this one."

The Brigadier chuckled. "I might have to let you, this time. Did you have a disagreement?"

"I don't know," she said. "Honestly, sir, I don't." Her free hand went up to push her bleached curls out of her face. "We seem to be like that, you know, close one minute, mixed up the next."

"Thank you for your help, Miss Tyler," he said, deciding to let her off the hook as she swayed where she stood. "I expect you'd better get some sleep, now. Joshua will probably be miserable in the morning, and he'll probably feel better for seeing your charming smile."

She nodded vaguely and looked around. "I don't suppose you know if he's got a t-shirt I can borrow or something?" She plucked at her brightly colored blouse in distress.

The Brigadier pulled the requested item from a drawer and handed it to her without comment. She accepted it the same way, then leaned over and kissed the cheek of the still unconscious Time Lord.

"You may want to get him another blanket, I think he's got cold," she mumbled and, placing his hand carefully on his chest, turned and left.

Lethbridge-Stewart settled into the recliner she had vacated and waited.

* * *

When Joshua woke, he felt like a hangover with a hangover. He groaned loudly and Harry appeared, looking down at him and smirking. "Hurts, does it?" he asked. Joshua often wondered what sort of medical school you went to to get a beside manner that involved such gentle evil. Of course, Harry's bedside manner was better with other people, but then other people hadn't locked Harry in a coat cupboard in a fit of brilliant insanity and done a runner.

"What happened?" he asked weakly.

"Interesting. Didn't think the short term memory loss would apply to you. You totaled your car and a light post as well."

"I was driving... I was drunk and I was driving." He buried his face in his hands, fighting tears. "Oh, god, what was I thinking??"

Harry sighed. "Joshua, I don't believe you were."

"I could have killed someone." He looked up at Harry and saw Harry's face go white. "I could have killed someone else," he corrected coldly.

Harry shook his head and stared into those haunted eyes. Those were the almost Doctor's eyes, and that was very nearly the Doctor's fury, raging in them, self-directed. Almost everything the Doctor didn't approve of stopped, and right now, the thing he least approved of was himself. "Joshua, listen to me. It didn't happen and it isn't going to happen."

"It could have happened," he said, his voice dark and his words clipped.

"But it didn't. Think man, would you do that again, knowing what you know now?"

Joshua blinked at him, in surprise. "Of course not," he snapped.

"Then you got off with a hard lesson."

The Brigadier appeared in the doorway and glowered at the pair of them. Then, he opened his mouth and spoke, slowly and carefully, the odd words they had been taught that would bring the Doctor back for a short period.

Joshua flinched and shook and then, he looked up at them and the difference was there. The tears were now pouring unchecked, and the eyes... Harry had honestly woken from nightmares about those eyes before.

"Have you got my sonic screwdriver?" he asked the Brigadier.

The instrument was passed to him quickly. "Well?"

"I have to admit I'm impressed. Hard to impress, me. Also damn hard to inebriate. Last of... anyway, ignominious way to go, no matter how you look at it." He sighed and tugged out the dog tags, then looked up at them, sincerity shining in those damp, haunted eyes. "Thank you, both of you."

"Are you going to do something about all these injuries?" Harry asked.

"No time," he said. "Besides, it's not like I don't deserve these." He tilted his head up and frowned, apparently calculating something, as he adjusted the settings on the screwdriver. "I'll suffer strapped ribs and sore muscles with the rest of them. I've got to get up a temporal and psychic dampening field and since I don't take these off, it's safest. Is Rose all right?"

"She's fine," the Brigadier admitted quietly.

"She's brilliant, isn't she?" the Doctor asked, almost cheerfully, even as he ran that weird, squeaky blue beam over the tags.

Harry knew he and the Brigadier both would have jumped at the chance to ask about the girl last week, but now they needed to know something else. "What happened?"

"That's why I'm setting up the dampener. As Joshua I don't know about this stuff, I couldn't hide it in my memory like everything else, and it's got to be prevented. There are certain circumstances where I can lose control... well, I can't, but like I said, I don't know most of the time. This won't prevent my time sense, just keep my temporal energy close to my body and under control."

"What would happen?" the Brigadier asked.

"What circumstances?" Harry managed.

The Time Lord looked up at him with red tipped ears and answered the Brigadier instead. "Everything from confused impressions like last night to the entirety of South London getting tugged into a side tracked time line," he said, grimly. "I didn't think, it didn't occur to me, but she's..." He made another quick adjustment, then turned the screwdriver on his thumb, pulled the stitches and sealed the cut quickly. "Damn, that was annoying," he said. "How'd you talk the TARDIS out of my piano?"

"Very carefully," the Brigadier said. "Why were you unconscious?"

"Defense mechanism," he admitted, grimly, but didn't seem to plan to say anymore on the subject.

"What do you want us to do about the girl?" the Brigadier ventured.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Sleeping on the sofa," he said. "She waited up with you half the night."

Despite everything, including the shattered pain in the alien's eyes and the worry in his voice, despite the fact that he still couldn't say "Last of the Time Lords" or hide the horror in his expression and closed body language, the Doctor looked up at them both with a question in his gaze. When they nodded, his eyes actually looked alive for the first time in the eight months since he had fallen out of his TARDIS onto the Brigadier's lawn. His smile came up like morning, wide and honest and so happy that less cynical men would have been brushing back tears.

"Fantastic," he said and then, he was gone.


	11. Chapter 10

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. He's now refusing to speak English and, although we have a general idea of which languages he's using, we can't translate. Anyone know what "Είστε καταδικασμένοι" means? It's Greek to us. We'll keep you posted.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 10:**

"It never occurred to him?" said the Brigadier. "What never occurred to him?"

Harry looked marvelously uncomfortable and shrugged.

John brought the baskets of food to their table and settled in with an inquiring look. Harry and the Brigadier had decided to take a break from their vigil to join John for lunch while the Brigadier waited for Doris to arrive. Now they found themselves at a small sandwich shop around the corner from Joshua's flat, still debating the ongoing problem of what to do about the never-ending crisis of an insane alien and his only slightly less insane human disguise.

"What I can't get over is the power you said he mentioned," John said quietly.

The Brigadier sighed. He felt almost ridiculous for that one. "It should have occurred to me after all this time that there's something more to the term 'Time Lord' than a trans-galactic public phone."

John snorted into his tea. "Bigger on the inside. Ship and him, apparently."

Harry shook his head. "It's almost alarming to think about. All those times we were stuck in places and he was actually worried... It makes me realize that the danger we were in had to have been much worse than it looked."

"I still think you're not telling us something," said John to Harry, smiling that small, quiet smile that meant he was probably teasing.

Harry rolled his eyes and nibbled at his sandwich. "I don't know, you understand, and I hesitate to speculate."

"Speculate, Dr. Sullivan," said the Brigadier. "That's an order."

"It's just, he definitely blushed when I asked. I didn't honestly know it was possible. He also treated the dampening field as the most urgent matter at hand, despite his injuries and the extreme level of toxins in his system. He was stone cold sober last night and this morning, but at the rate he drinks... well, I don't know. Alien physiology. He can pass a breath test, but for all intents and purposes, his system should be saturated. If he were human..." Harry looked to be changing the subject to Joshua's drinking problem, so the Brigadier glowered him into submission. "The young lady has something to do with it, we know that for certain. I know of very few circumstances when the Doctor's control would lapse, but I know one that definitely effects most males." He sighed heavily and shook his head. "He thinks he's forty, healthy, and human."

The stare he shot the Brigadier begged the older man to read his mind. Here was Harry at his Victorian best, the old style of Britain that found discussing anything other than the weather to be entirely too personal.

"And now we know why Harry went into the Navy instead of specializing," said John, and he was definitely teasing now.

The Brigadier shook his head and left his men to their polite banter. He had the gist of it now. Maybe he was a bit too Victorian himself, after all. Two wives, a string of random lovers, and three very intense affairs, but he'd never thought about it as applied to his old friend, anyway.

"I think we've got the answer to your question, though, Harry," John was saying as the Brigadier began paying attention again.

Harry heaved a sigh. "I've had far too many questions since we began this insane mess to know which specific one you are referring to."

"You asked once whether it was just Joshua who was interested in Rose," Benton prompted.

"Oh, yes," Harry said with vague recollection.

"Well, the Doctor seemed quite fond of her. More than fond, I'd say."

The Brigadier snorted. Benton had always had a gift for understatement. The expression he had seen on the Doctor's face was one he thought he never would again. In the past, it had been reserved for amazing moments of discovery, for brilliant successes and, occasionally, survival in the face of unimaginable odds. Until very recently, the Doctor hadn't even wanted to survive.

It felt like hope.

* * *

Rose woke to the soft strains of a piano playing somewhere. She sat up slowly and rubbed at her eyes, trying to figure out why she was sleeping in her jeans, and then where she was doing this. The music was dark, airy, and familiar. Phantom of the Opera, she thought. Or was it Puccini?

What ever.

Who would be playing either?

She looked down at the oversized jumper and finally remembered. Joshua. She considered calling out to him, but thought better of it. He was supposed to be lying down if she remembered. She lifted herself gingerly from the sofa and followed her ears.

The room next to Joshua's bedroom had apparently been converted into a music room. There was a completely over the top looking stereo system, a violin on an end table and, over by the window, a small upright piano. She would have looked at it more closely, but Joshua was there, his back to her, and she fell still to watch him play while he didn't know she was there.

He was wearing neither his jacket nor even his jumper today. His ribs had been wrapped in something, apparently, and his skin was bare and tanned above and below the taut white fabric. She was surprised to find him long and slender and slightly lanky in only his jeans. He had an athlete's build, really, a runner's or a swimmer's, and his muscles flexed attractively with his movements. His long fingered hands swept gracefully over the keys when she could see them, and she almost stopped breathing at the thought of those hands playing her like they played that piano, with delicacy and loving precision.

He came to the end of the song and she thought to say something, but his fingers never stilled. He played a modulating chord, a short chromatic run, two more chords, and then drifted into something she didn't recognize. It sounded, all the same, like an apology in music, and she crept closer just to see if she could understand.

"I'm just making it up as I go along," he said, softly. So he knew she was there, after all. She wasn't surprised. He seemed to be able to find her anywhere in the pub or the neighborhood, so why not in his own flat? "Can't find anything that rhymes with 'stupid'."

"How about 'I won't do it again'?" she suggested.

"Well, it doesn't rhyme, but it's true." His hands stilled. Then he reached over, closed the piano lid, and turned to look at her. "I am so sorry."

"You scared me," she told him and, to her horror, felt her eyes burn. Her vision blurred. She fought it, swallowing hard.

Then she felt a hand work its way into her own, and another brushing softly at her face. "Rose, please," his dark voice whispered. "Please don't cry." He sounded like he was seconds from crying himself. "I'm not worth it," he pleaded. "Oh, precious girl, don't you see, I'm not worth your tears."

She didn't know what she was saying, just aware that she was murmuring his name, miserably, her body trembling. He was leading her somewhere, but it wasn't until he detached his hands and then placed a cup of tea in front of her that she realized he'd brought her to the kitchen. She shivered as his hands cupped her shoulders through his borrowed jumper. "I... I didn't mean to cry," she told him at last. "I... you shouldn't talk like that, Joshua. You're very important to... a lot of people."

He managed a half smile and let her go with a last pat to her shoulders. "Don't cry over me, Rose," he said, very seriously. "No one should ever make you cry for any reason."

"Just... just promise me you won't..."

"I will never drive while drunk again," he promised sincerely.

She nodded and sipped at her tea. It would have to do.

Her mobile rang and she tugged it out of her pocket. It was her mum, so she hit the 'ignore' button.

Joshua looked up at her then, his eyes narrowed and expectant. "Aren't you going to answer Rickey? He probably wants to know where you are."

She glowered at him. "For your information, it's me mum, she knows where I am, and she's not half angry about it."

He sighed. "Right. Sorry." He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time and she found herself smiling slightly. It might be the first time he was seeing it clearly, anyway.

The mobile rang again and she answered it. "What is it, Mickey?" she said.

Joshua shot her a dark but triumphant look while Mickey babbled in her ear that her mother was on her way.

"Shit," she said. "All right, I'll just go down and wait or something. Look, thanks, I owe you." Then she rang off and looked up to tell Joshua he was about to be invaded if she didn't get out of there right away.

The stormy expression on his face stopped the words right there on her lips. "So off you go, then. Have a good afternoon with Rickey the Idiot. See ya... whenever."

She slapped him. He had it coming anyway, and this was just too much. Her hand stinging, she swore at him a little while he stood there, saying nothing, just staring at her. She stormed off to find her shirt so she could leave. When it didn't turn up in the first two places she looked, she glowered down at the jumper and decided, what the hell, it was hers now. "And just so you know," she added as a parting shot, "I wasn't going to go out with him. But I am now."

She slammed the door and ran.

* * *

Joshua opened the nearest cabinet, pulled out the whiskey and a shot glass, placed the glass neatly on the table and drank straight from the bottle. By the time the Brigadier returned, his "nephew" was unconscious on the sofa, clutching tight to the pillow Rose had slept on, his nose buried in the fabric, with long tracks of tears drying on his face.

* * *

For the first time in his memory, Joshua's dreams were clear. But like always, they left him cold, terrified, and miserable. This time, he dreamed of Rose's face: as she looked down on his prone form the night before, as tears trickled down her face, as she told him that she had decided to go out with Rickey. A sob shook his body awake, into the arms of his uncle.


	12. Chapter 11

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. He's offered to trade us some immortal bloke whom he claims also has his own show, but we're not sure. Bird in the hand and all that. We'll keep you updated on our progress, if we ever make any.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 11:**

Rose managed to keep from flinching as her mother stormed up to her. Fingers wrapped angrily around her upper arm and pulled her along in Jackie's wake. Rose went peaceably, knowing that not fighting would go a long way to cooling down the upcoming argument. At least, that was her original intent. She soon got tired of the silent treatment.

It wasn't a long trip, just over a mile if you used the side streets and alleys. Just past halfway, there was a small empty lot surrounded by uninhabited buildings. It was generally considered convenient for the continuance of the odd bar fight or a quickie against the wall. This was the place Rose chose for confrontation. It was neutral ground. She dug her feet in and dragged Jackie to a halt.

"Are you going to say something?" Rose began. "He was in a car wreck. Someone had to look after him!"

"Oh! And it just had to be you. He's trying to kill himself and you're infatuated with him!"

At this, Rose refused to respond. She knew she wasn't infatuated. She was beginning to suspect it went a lot deeper than that. Jackie saw the opportunity and swooped in to fill the silence with a smorgasbord of misplaced advice, chastisements, and empty platitudes. Rose followed her silently home knowing that she was only delaying the inevitable battle. She hoped to have more artillery by then.

Mickey and Shireen arrived on the doorstep within minutes of Jackie slamming the door behind them. Jackie refused to allow Rose to answer the door, afraid of it being "that man" and her never seeing her daughter again. When she saw who it was she fell into raptures at the top of her lungs about how sweet Mickey was and how well he treated Rose. While Jackie enthused, Shireen ducked around her and headed into the living room where Rose waited. The two girls exchanged an eye roll and grasped at the sheepish look on Mickey's face when he was ushered in. Jackie bustled off to fix them all a cuppa.

Shireen sat next to Rose on the couch and grasped her hand comfortingly. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"How's old big ears?" Mickey asked, not unkindly. He even seemed to be genuinely concerned.

"He'll be alright. He's already up and moving around despite being ordered to rest."

Shireen narrowed her eyes in suspicion of Rose's strained nonchalance, but was unable to question it as Jackie chose that moment to return. The rest of the visit passed in small talk and gossip, and Shireen left, her curiosity unsatisfied.

* * *

Lethbridge-Stewart waited patiently for his "nephew" to come to himself and where he was. It was not the first time he'd seen this Doctor awaken in tears and, though it made his heart ache, he doubted it would be the last time. The first time it had happened, he hadn't expected it, having never thought he'd see the Doctor cry. But what he'd seen in battle and war told him why, and the unstable Time Lord was at once more cold and more emotional than he'd ever been before. Joshua, of course, was in almost the same state. Tears came readily, no matter who the Doctor thought he was, and the Brigadier had long since decided to do nothing to make him consider them inappropriate or shameful.

Sooner than he expected, Joshua was pushing himself away and wiping the tears harshly from his face.

Under these circumstances, most people would ask the person who had just awakened what they had dreamed, but the Brigadier knew better. The Doctor didn't want to talk about it, and Joshua could never remember, a fact which frustrated him amazingly. The Brigadier was stunned, therefore, that Joshua's eyes met his without the unfocused look of forgetfulness clouding them. This time the pain shone with a clarity which was somehow worse than when it was hazy.

"What have I done?" Joshua rasped.

The Brigadier stared at him, gaping like a fish, completely at a loss as to how to answer that. Joshua shouldn't remember. Had the wall broken? Was he now talking to the Doctor? But the Doctor knew exactly what he had done, and the power that suffused the Doctor was missing from Joshua. The Brigadier decided that this time, asking Joshua if he could remember the dream could be the only safe option. He opened his mouth to do so, but Joshua spoke before he could.

"Shit, how could I be so stupid?" he raged at himself.

The Doctor was not known for calling himself stupid, quite the opposite in fact. The Brigadier realized that this was most likely Joshua, and so addressed him as such.

"What happened, son?" he asked kindly.

"She got a call from Rickey the Idiot. I thought…I dunno, I guess I thought she was ditching me. I said something I shouldn't. She ran off." Joshua spat the words out, as though thoroughly disgusted with himself.

Every gear ground to a halt in the Brigadier's mind. He felt as though he had to mentally rewind the spring to start everything up again. He'd been expecting alien invasions, not girl trouble, and particularly not so soon. Miss Tyler had been worried sick the night before and refused to leave his side until she knew he was in safe hands. She was steady, Lethbridge-Stewart could recognize that in her already. Joshua must have made a proper ass out of himself to chase her off. The Brigadier sighed and toyed with his mustache uncomfortably.

"Your aunt is just down the street picking up some supplies. She figured that your fridge was probably pretty bare, and we can't have you starving during your recovery. She'll be here in a few minutes. Doris will know better than me how you can fix this." He sighed again and looked away. This was not his area of expertise. "In the mean time, how about some tea?"

* * *

Doris Lethbridge-Stewart was met at the door by a husband who was unusually relieved to see her. The groceries were taken from her with an assurance that he would put them away if she would only talk to Joshua. The (apparently) younger man was sitting on the couch; his head was resting on the knuckles of his fists as though he was too upset to un-ball his hands, though his knuckles must be digging into his forehead. Or maybe he felt he deserved the discomfort. Doris recognized the look, if not the intensity, from anyone who had ever hurt the person they loved.

"What have you done, dear?" she asked tenderly, sitting down next to Joshua. He looked up, tears shining in his eyes. He opened his mouth and the flood gates were released. With gentle prodding, Doris soon had the whole story, from the first time he'd noticed how much more Rose deserved than Jimmy Stone was giving her, up until the events of that morning.

"So…who was the first phone call from?" she asked an hour later. The Bridgadier was now perched in a nearby chair, listening raptly.

"Her mum. Di'n't like her daughter out all night, I shouldn't wonder. I dunno…I thought it was her mate, Mickey. He fancies her like mad. And…I didn't like it. I said something unworthy of her. But then, Mickey did call, and this time she answered it. All of a sudden, she had to go. I hated the idea of her leaving me to go to him. I lashed out." Joshua was speaking as though from a distance, dully reciting his tale. The tears had long since dried. He had no more tears to shed. If he were human, he'd have a killer headache.

Doris closed her eyes, not really wanting to know the answer to the next question, but needing to hear it, all the same. "What did you say, exactly?"

"So, off you go, then. Have a good afternoon with Rickey the Idiot. See ya... whenever." His voice perfectly recreated what he'd said, bitterness sharpening the edge of his words.

"What did she say?" Doris, knowing that she was near the crux of the story, softened her voice even more as though she were talking to a frightened child, which, she realized, she was.

"She slapped me."

"And quite right, too, with all you put her through," the Brigadier muttered from his chair. Doris shushed him.

"And then?"

"She said she's going to go out with Mickey. She wasn't going to, but now she is. Thing is, he deserves her more than I do." Joshua's voice cracked, the recitation over.

"Oh, Joshua," Doris began.

"No, Aunt Doris. I call him a stupid ape, but he's not the one who thought he was so clever he didn't need to ask questions. I watched her. From the window." Joshua jerked his chin towards the window next to the door. "When she got downstairs, her mum came storming up, and dragged her off. Mickey must've told Rose. 'S why she left. So her mum couldn't have a go at me. I'm the idiot."

Doris and the Brigadier, having heard Joshua's depiction of Jackie Tyler, shared a glance which said how brave and compassionate they thought this young woman must be to face that alone for the sake of Joshua.

When nothing was said for several minutes, Joshua looked up at his aunt. "How do I fix this?" his voice begged, echoing the pleas in his eyes.

"Start by apologizing." Doris said simply.

"Apologizing, right." Joshua nodded and hoisted himself off the couch, moving purposefully to the door.

"Wait!" Doris caught his arm. "You can't go out like that. Harry said that bandage was waterproof, so go get a shower. And we'll get some food into you. I know you. You haven't eaten all day."

"And a shirt would be good," the Brigadier chimed in.

Joshua looked down at his bare arms and shoulders in bewilderment. His hand came up to brush the tear tracks staining his face. "Right," he said again, striding off to the bathroom.

When they heard the water start, Doris and her husband both heaved a sigh.

"As absent minded as ever," Lethbridge-Stewart commented as he headed into the kitchen to help his wife with lunch.

* * *

Rose begged out of being alone in her mum's company after Mickey and Shireen left by saying she needed a shower. It had the benefit of being true, so Jackie couldn't get upset.

The hot water relaxed muscles that had been tense since Joshua ran out of the pub the night before. The sound of the droplets hitting the wall muffled her sniffs and quiet sobs. The rivulets that poured down her face erased her tears. Rose imagined that the anger and pain of the past 12 hours was being rinsed off. She pretended that she was just releasing the emotions she had ignored through the night and morning. She thought she was getting good at lying to herself.

While Rose was drowning her sorrow, a knock came to the door, let itself in and resounded determinedly through the apartment. Expecting Howard, Jackie opened the door with a smile which vanished the instant she saw the tall, big eared man in a leather jacket.

"Hello. I don't know if we've been properly introduced," Joshua began nervously, a polite smile faltering on his face. "I'm Joshua St-"

"I know who you are," Jackie informed him coldly. "You're the sick bastard trying to seduce my Rose. What are you, thirty-five? Forty? She's half your age. You stay away from my daughter, or I will make you regret it. I see you 'round here again, I'm calling the cops, mate." Jackie slammed the door.

Joshua blinked for a moment at the door, unsure of when he'd lost control of the situation. He briefly considered pounding on the door and demanding to see Rose, but that undoubtedly would bring the police and a situation even Uncle Alistair couldn't get him out of. Instead, for once, Joshua did the smart thing and left.

A small detour from his route home took Joshua to the playground where he'd first taken Rose's hand and run with her. Joshua watched as two children of about 6 years old took turns on the slide, laughing and screaming in glee all the way down. The girl's red hair streamed behind her like dancing flames. The black-haired boy spied a dandelion that had sprouted at the base of the slide. When the girl landed, he handed it to her, smiling shyly. The impetuous carrot-top threw her arms around her friend in a tight hug and graced him with a kiss on his cheek. She then gleefully ran off to the woman Joshua assumed was her mum and showed off her flower.

When Joshua got home, the first thing he did was open the telephone directory to 'F.'


	13. Chapter 12

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. There's now someone banging at the door claiming to be the immortal bloke we were told about before. Somehow, I don't think he's come to hand himself over... oh dear. We'll keep you updated on our progress, if we ever make any.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

Chapter 12:

Tuesday afternoon, Rose got the second most gratifying surprise of her life to date. Only the red bike that had appeared for Christmas when she was twelve could beat it.

Wilson was fixing the connection of a flickering light on the sales floor. He insisted that he needed Rose to hand him tools and tell him when something he did made it better or worse. It didn't take him long to figure out which wire was going wrong.

"Watch this, Rose," he said with the enthusiasm of a little kid. The light flickered rhythmically: three quick flashes, three slow flashes, three quick flashes.

"SOS," Rose translated.

"You think anyone will respond to my distress signal?" Wilson asked mischievously. The two were soon doubled over in laughter.

"Figure it out?" Joseph asked from behind Rose.

Wilson wasn't fazed by the sudden appearance. "Yup," he said cheerfully. "It was something so simplistic, even Rose thinks it's an insult to my talents."

"I'm sure." Joseph tried to remain stern, but his lips were twitching. "Well, if you're free, Miss Tyler, there's a delivery for you."

"For me?" Rose asked incredulously.

"Indeed. I would hurry along before the other girls try to claim it." Joseph turned on his heel and walked off.

Rose stared after him. Wilson, after replacing the panel, jumped down and grabbed Rose's hand, dragging her towards the break room.

"C'mon," he urged.

Rose managed to spur her feet into action, and trotted along after Wilson.

The electrician whistled as he walked into the room. Rose craned her head over his shoulder to see what had so impressed him. In the middle of the card table that predominated the pokey room, a vase supported a large bouquet.

Wilson circled it, peering intently.

"Roses, Stargazer lilies, Fuji mums, alstroemeria…" he muttered pointing vaguely to each flower in turn. He noticed Rose's glance in his direction. "What? Me mum was a florist. She wasn't half sick that I didn't follow in her shoes." He turned back to the flowers. "Exquisitely arranged. Someone has good taste. Ooh, there's a card." He snatched up the small envelope addressed to her and passed it over without even a peek, though the curiosity was obviously killing him.

Rose's fingers toyed with the flap of the envelope while she continued to stare at the bouquet. She knew who it was from. She didn't have to look at the card to know.

No one had ever made such a public declaration of their feelings for her. It had felt like they were ashamed of her instead. Jimmy Stone had openly slept with other girls, saying she couldn't satisfy him. He'd insulted her regularly in front of her friends. Even Mickey had pulled her to the side so no one would hear. Although she knew that he'd done it to protect her privacy, after her experiences with Jimmy, Rose had briefly thought it was because he was ashamed to be associated with her.

And here was a bouquet, the intent of which couldn't be mistaken. It made her feel cherished and important. With a smile, Rose finally pulled the card from the envelope. Rose wondered how long it had taken Joshua to write the message. It was scribed with the careful hand of someone who had terrible penmanship and was making a real effort to be legible.

"'_I'm stupid.'_" Rose read aloud, knowing that Wilson would scream if he had to wait much longer. "_'I'm sorry. Please give me another chance. I'd love for us to start over. May I take you to dinner this Thursday at 6:30? -Joshua'_"

"Honey, you got it bad," Wilson chimed.

"How d'you mean?"

Wilson grabbed a hand mirror Stephanie kept in the break room and showed Rose her face. She was beaming. If her smile grew any wider, she would dislocate her jaw.

"So, you're going, right?"

"I think I have to."

"I think the poof should put down my mirror. Might break if it has to reflect _your_ face much longer," a cold voice said from the doorway. Stephanie stepped into the room and spied the flowers. "Oh, look! One of the girls got flowers, how sweet. I wonder who they're for." Her voice oozed the sap of someone who expected to be told they were the recipient, all set up to act surprised.

"Rose," Wilson told her firmly. "The flowers are for Rose."

"Nice try, Miss East-end, but I'm not letting you steal someone else's flowers just because you've never gotten any of your own."

For once, Rose felt she had the strength of will to stand up to this abuse. She was important to somebody.

"You're right, Stephanie," she said, placing herself squarely in front of the other girl, forcing Stephanie to face her head on. "I've never gotten flowers before. No one's ever really cared enough. But," she held up the envelope the card had been in, "this says 'to Miss Rose Tyler.' Some one cares now, and not even you can destroy that." Rose pushed past Stephanie and headed to the sales floor without a single backwards glance.

Wilson stayed behind, transfixed by the colors that battled for control of Stephanie's face. The white of shock gave way to the red of embarrassment. Red was soon captured and executed by a purple rage. Rage and green envy soon reached a stalemate and so agreed to cohabit the face peaceably. The resulting color put Wilson in mind of a book he'd once read which mentioned an eighth color of the rainbow: octarine. People who saw it described it as a greenish-purple. Smirking, Wilson left the still motionless Stephanie alone in the break room only after putting the flowers on a shelf Stephanie couldn't reach.

* * *

Rose burst into the flat that night and hurried into her room, scouring her wardrobe after carefully setting down the flowers.

"What is it, sweetheart? And what're those?" Jackie asked, wandering in from the living room.

"Nothing, mum. I'm just going out for a bit. Won't be late."

Jackie glanced between the flowers and her daughter's face, and made a remarkably accurate leap of logic. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

"You're not going to see him," she told her daughter decisively.

Rose considered lying, but remembered that she'd decided she was too old to do so anymore. "Yes, I am," Rose said, shimmying into a pair of jeans. "I just need to tell him something, and then I'll come straight home."

"You can't. I won't let you throw your life away on this drunk."

"I'm not throwing anything away. And you liked Jimmy, and look how that turned out. Sorry if I don't trust your judgment on who I should date!" Rose regretted saying that when she saw her mum wince. "Sorry," she whispered. Her mum had liked Jimmy, when he seemed to be going places. Joshua had already been places, but her mum didn't see anything but the older bloke at the pub. Rose honestly thought that was what he wanted everyone to see, just a nobody who could die in a ditch without their permission.

But he let her in. Oh, there was a lot more to know, she could spend years trying to just get an idea of who he was. But he wasn't hiding anymore.

Her mother cleared her throat and tapped her foot, glowering at Rose, and then at the flowers as if they contained some sort of spell or something.

"I love him, Mum." The confession lifted the weight off her chest that had been bothering her since the night in the pub. It had happened, she knew that, but she'd not been willing to admit it aloud or even to herself except in moments of panic.

"Oh for God's sake, Rose, you hardly know him!"

"Doesn't matter."

"Let me just tell you, my girl. Love's all very well and good but believe me when I tell you it'll never pay the bills."

She rolled her eyes. "He bought that lot, didn't he?" she asked, gesturing at the flowers. When her mum refused to acknowledge their presence at all, she sighed. "No, but neither will pretending I don't care. Love doesn't have to pay the bills, Mum, it just has to be." Rose watched her mum, praying she'd understand.

Jackie sighed and stepped aside. "Go to it, then," she told her daughter wearily.

Rose only paused to give her mum a peck before racing out the front door. She ran all the way to Joshua's flat and was breathless even before she saw the grin when he opened the door and saw her.

"Yes. You may," she told him before launching into his arms. She squeezed him tight until a hiss of air between his teeth reminded her that he was still injured. "Sorry!" She tried to pull back, but he didn't let go.

"You forgive me?" he choked out.

"I forgive you," she murmured warmly before scolding, "if you never do it again. Ever."

"I won't," Joshua vowed. His voice ached with sincerity.

"I know," she whispered with a smile. Only then did Joshua relax his grip, though Rose got the sense that he did so with great reluctance. She stood within the circle of his arms for several minutes listening to the oddly doubled rhythm of his heartbeat. She remembered that his uncle had said he had a heart condition. It was irregular, but it soothed her.

Then she remembered that she'd promised her mum she'd only be gone a few minutes. Rose looked up into Joshua's smiling eyes. By standing on tiptoe, she was able to give his cheek a soft, lingering kiss.

"See you Thursday," she said. And then, she was gone.

Joshua watched after her and realized he knew how that black-haired boy in the park had felt.

* * *

A/N: If you want to see Rose's flowers, Olfactory Ventriloquism actually picked them out for her, and they're brilliant.

Link is on my profile page, as this delightful program will NOT allow me to put it WHERE IT BELONGS. (grumble grumble ffnet swear grumble)


	14. Chapter 13

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. As the Doctor is currently tied to a chair, the immortal bloke appears to be on our side. Sort of. We'll have to keep an eye on him, too, it looks like.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 13:**

"Tell me what to do," Joshua's voice pleaded.

John agreed to join him at his flat, only after Joshua had insisted that he knew nothing about impressing "normal" girls. He supposed it made sense - the Doctor was used to sweeping girls off their feet and carrying them off to the stars. Earth-bound and feeling human, he probably would feel quite a bit out of his depth.

Joshua already had a few in him by the time John arrived. In annoyance, he greeted the alien with, "That'll be your first fuck up," instead of hello. "You get drunk off your arse in front of her and you'll only get to kiss her goodbye."

John talked Joshua out of going completely insane in the restaurant selection by the simple expedient of reminding him that such places expected collared shirts, which his jumper wasn't. "Of course, you could wear your uniform, that'd work." He knew they could conjure up UNIT dress in Joshua's size if it came to it, but he also had the near certainty that Joshua would rebel against the very idea.

He was right, and Joshua glowered at him, not nearly as inebriated as he'd seemed when John arrived, and too canny, therefore, to give in to that suggestion. He actually would have had fun with it, but he didn't think the Doctor would appreciate it later. Especially not when the Time Lord learned there were photos, which John would have gone out of his way to arrange.

To get an idea of the right sort of place, he requested, "Tell me what you know about her."

Joshua thought about it for a minute, and then an entire torrent of words started spilling out. "Everyone thinks her favorite color is pink, but it isn't, it's red. It makes her feel brave, red, makes her feel special. She's not afraid of anything except people hurting themselves. She wants to help. Doesn't matter what and, thank god, doesn't matter who, or she'd've never given me a second glance. She sees people, really sees them, no matter what sort of masks they wear. She's a lot more clever than she thinks she is, works stuff out, you know? She's very tender-hearted, but when she makes up her mind, she sticks to it."

John gaped at him. "Anything else?" he prompted, as the blue eyes went distant in contemplation of that last statement. John allowed himself to wonder, privately at least, if Joshua was only just now realizing that Rose had set her cap for him. By his own statement, if she'd decided to win Joshua, she would do everything in her power to succeed.

Joshua blinked. "Yes, right, Rose. She's a singer and she's fantastic. She loves music, knows it, hears it. And ice cream, she's fond of that. And chips, too, come to think of it, she and Shireen are always on about chips. She's beautiful, but you've seen her, so you know about that. She's got stars in her eyes and there's light all around her." He frowned, looking like he hadn't meant for any of that last to come out. Clearing his throat, he said, "So, I guess not much, really."

"You're a goner," John exclaimed, utterly awed. "Oh, you are _doomed_!" The Doctor, Joshua, whoever he thought he was, he was completely and utterly in love with an ordinary blonde girl from the Council Estates. Unable to resist the shy, wary smile, John grinned back, and never mind that it probably looked out of place on his face. "This is brilliant. Let's see what we can do."

Joshua stopped just short of taking notes as John talked. Still, he hung on every word, nodding as if John were giving him detailed instructions on how to save the world. "Honestly, if I were you, I would wear something besides a jumper and jeans, but that's up to you."

"Think I own a suit," Joshua said reluctantly. "S'pose I can wear it, long's it doesn't have pin-stripes. Hate pin-stripes, me. Bit too pretty, ya know?"

John nodded, agreeing with him, completely. "And be polite. Open doors for her and hold her chair and act the gentleman like you used to do."

"Oh, right."

"I suggested that place with dancing instead, are you sure you don't want..."

"I don't dance," Joshua said, like it was universal law.

John just shook his head. "If you're going to keep going out with her, you'd better remember how fast, because women like dancing. It's not like you can't, I've seen you."

By the time he left, he was almost certain the Doctor would act more like the one in the opera cape than his current manifestation, at least while trying to impress Rose. As he drove home, he phoned Harry on his mobile. "Are humans and Time Lords compatible?" he asked, making it clear which sort of 'compatible' he meant with the inflection of his voice.

"What?!" Harry demanded, and John could just imagine him blushing crimson at the very idea. "How should I know?!"

"You're the doctor, Dr. Sullivan. You might want to figure it out. Soon." Harry was still sputtering when John hung up, getting the distinct feeling that he was enjoying this on-going disaster quite a lot more than he should be doing.

* * *

Rose got to leave Henrick's at lunchtime on Thursday. Wilson spent his lunch hour with her, dragging her into a posh boutique in the next block on Regent's Street that was having a huge clearance sale. It turned out he'd seen a dress in the window that he was sure was perfect, and he was absolutely right. She tried it on and almost couldn't bear to take it off, it was so beautiful. The price tag was even more beautiful. Suddenly, if only briefly, Rose appreciated people like Stephanie. They wouldn't buy something that wasn't this minute's fashion, so people like herself could get a crack at it for a steep discount.

She found Shireen waiting for her when she got back to the flat. Ostensibly, she was there to ask Rose about her job, but they both knew she really wanted to hear the whole story and help Rose get ready.

Jackie, unfortunately, was between hair-cutting customers when Rose got home, and didn't take the trouble to keep her voice down in the rant she was delivering to Shireen. "I mean, honestly, all these older blokes. Even Mickey, for God's sake, he was seventeen when he first asked her out. And that Jimmy. Don't get me started on him. You know he still owes her almost eight hundred quid? Don't suppose she'll ever see a cent of it. And now this one. What's she going to do next? Drag home Sean Connery?"

Rose laughed a little. "He's a bit of all right," she teased, not even her mother able to get her down today. "If I meet him, I'll be sure to bring him home. You can have him, though. I expect he's rich."

Jackie, helpless in the face of that announcement, actually chuckled. "Cheeky brat. I raised you wrong, and I don't know how."

"You did fine," Rose said sweetly. "I'm alive, I'm healthy, I didn't get pregnant like poor Chloe Johnston. You should be proud."

"Please don't say that word in my presence again," Jackie shot back, her face white.

"What?" Rose asked, astounded. "Proud?"

"No, pregnant. You be safe if you decide..."

"Mum!" Rose shrieked. "He's not like that, I know he's not."

"So you say," Jackie grumbled. "You were wearing his clothes when you came home the other day."

Oh, right. Rose shook her head and looked at Shireen who was watching them both, wide eyed, like a cat watching billiards. "I borrowed his jumper to wear to sleep in. On the sofa. While his uncle sat up with him in his bedroom."

"So you say," Jackie repeated.

"C'mon, Rose," Shireen pleaded, dragging Rose toward her room by one hand, "you still haven't told me anything about Henrick's at all!" The instant the door was shut, Shireen leaned on it as though trying to force it shut on a bloody great pile of laundry in a tiny closet, and let out a great sigh. "I thought you said she'd calmed down."

"She had," Rose said. "But you know Mum, she's not happy if there's nothing to complain about."

Then, starting with the stolen jumper, and bouncing around from point to point, Rose told Shireen as much of the whole story as she could. She left out any of it that she thought was too private or that she didn't want to think about. Anything she was sure was only Joshua's business and no one else's, she kept to herself. More than anything, she talked about the flowers, the look on Stephanie's face when Rose got them, Wilson's reaction, and how much she loved them.

"You're a goner," Shireen pronounced, after Rose had described in detail the way Joshua had hugged her and held her so tightly, despite his bruised ribs, when she told him she'd go out with him. "And here's me thinking you just wanted to get in his pants!"

"I do not!" Rose replied, hotly. Shireen stared at her until Rose, unable to help herself, said, "He's still banged up from the car crash."

They fell into girlish giggles at that sort-of confession. When they sobered, Rose shook her head and sat down on her bed, looking out the window but not really seeing anything. "That's not what it's about. He's just... I dunno. Special. He can look at you and make you 'bout an inch tall, or queen of the world, just like that. He's seen so much and a lot of it was wrong, and you can tell just by looking at him. He's lonely, like we never are, like the next loneliest person in the world isn't. He just... he needs somebody. Not to fix him, but to care about him, to... I dunno. Hold his hand. He's trying to fool everyone into thinking he's just some bloke who can die in a gutter somewhere for all they care, but there's a lot more to him than that."

"That's just you, Rose," Shireen said softly. "Everyone else gets the drunk in the pub. You get smiles and jealousy and sheet music. And he just jotted it down while you sang it?"

"Yeah," Rose whispered. "He's brilliant."

"C'mon, let's get you ready."

The rest of the afternoon flew by in a haze chatter and preparation. Jackie shocked Rose nearly out of her shoes when she came in with a cuppa for each of them and proceeded to put Rose's hair up in a shockingly lovely style. "Make you look a bit older at least, so everyone won't think you're his daughter or something."

Rose laughed this time at the age thing. It was really driving Jackie up the wall. "You know what I think?" she teased. "You're just jealous you didn't see him first!"

Jackie laughed with her. "What would we talk about, yeah? Which booze is the best bargain? You're welcome to the broody old sod. And drink your tea, it's getting cold."


	15. Chapter 14

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Jack, as the Immortal bloke insists on being addressed, has been ordered to leave by the Doctor, even if he does have to leave the Doctor with us. Did we mention Jack can be annoying when he wants to be? Wonder if we could get him to help with the signing bit. Humm...**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 14:**

When Joshua arrived at Rose's flat, he was trying to remember if he had ever been this nervous before in his life. There were reasons for it, of course. If Jackie Tyler still wanted his bits nailed to her wall, moving to another planet was going to be his only hope and he'd been trying to avoid the aliens for a while now. He also had a stupid check list going constantly in his head, which thing usually only appeared for life-threatening events. "Make sure you get her phone number" was written in the same mauve double bold that usually read, "Make sure it doesn't happen again".

And why mauve, anyway?

He pressed the buzzer and prayed to whatever gods might at least feel sorry for him that Rose would answer the door. Thoughts about everything swirling through his brain, he waited impatiently and wiped his sweaty palms on his handkerchief.

Then, Rose did open the door, and every single thought utterly deserted him. "Fantastic," he breathed, a fact, on autopilot, and couldn't honestly think of anything else to say.

She did look fantastic, though. She was wearing a dark crimson dress with an embroidered bodice that hugged her body until it reached her hips, where it flared into a flowing skirt that fell just above her knees. It looked rather fragile, the dress, with only spaghetti straps to hold it in place. He shook his head and managed a shy smile. "You look beautiful," he said, admiring the few golden curls spilling down to caress her bare neck and pointedly not, absolutely not, studying the pattern in the embroidery across her bosom.

She beamed at him. "Thanks," she said shyly. "I wasn't sure where we were going but..."

"Didn't know maself at first," he admitted, and named the restaurant he and John had finally settled on. "That all right?"

She gazed at him in huge-eyed wonder. "Y... yes, of course," she stammered. "Yeah. Never been there, or anywhere like it. Do I look ok, do you think?" She looked down at her dress now with some trepidation. "No wonder you wore a suit," she said and turned to let her mum know she was leaving.

"This looks really nice," she told Joshua quietly, as she reached up and straightened his tie. Then, she smirked and stepped away with a satisfied little nod. "It don't suit you, really, but you look really good."

"Thanks," he said and couldn't help the proud grin that he directed at the top of her head.

It started almost as soon as they were in the taxi, and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. She asked some question about Cardiff and words came tumbling out, much to his surprise. Cataloging some artifacts he was certain he'd already cataloged, he told her. He didn't mention UNIT or what they did, first of all because it was all top-secret, but most of all, because he didn't really want her to think he was as mad as he sometimes believed himself to be. Rambling on about aliens and Rifts and holes in the universe would probably not help him with her at all. Later, when she trusted him, when he knew more about her, he found himself reluctantly willing to believe that he'd be able to tell her anything. For now, he talked around the subject, carefully.

That led to discussions about work in general, then her job and she talked about her co-workers and how much she wished they'd all just leave her alone. He decided pretty quickly that he didn't like her job, either, but kept it to himself, just let her vent.

Venting turned to talking about her mum, and by the time they got to the restaurant, he was telling her about his uncle and his aunt and their garden at the huge house in the country. He ordered her that strawberry concoction he remembered she liked, ordered himself a large whisky, neat, and perused the menu with only one eye, the rest of his attention entirely devoted to the girl who had made him smile more in the last five minutes than he had without her in the last five months.

"I have no idea what to order," she confessed quietly, blushing a bit and staring around at the crowded restaurant full of classy people and business folk.

He shrugged, unconcerned by what the world around them thought. Rose was, by far, the most impressive creature in the place, and she didn't even know it. "What do you like?"

"Chips," Rose announced, grinning with her little pink tongue poking through her teeth.

He rather thought he might just have to adore her. "Dunno if they have those, but I'll keep that in mind," he promised.

In the end, she just took the waiter's suggestion. Joshua, who was seriously considering just ordering dessert and skipping dinner altogether, settled on a steak in the end, and found himself with a dilemma when the waiter offered to get him another drink. Rose was watching him, and he could see clearly that this was important to her. He hedged. "Maybe later," he said, even though he really, really wanted one.

She put her hand over his and smiled up at him like the sun coming up. It was worth it.

As the evening wore on, the craving got worse, but he managed to get through dinner nursing only the one along. He had a second with the chocolate mousse he ordered for dessert, while she nibbled on an ice cream confection that sent him into a rather in depth perusal of the list of inanimate objects he'd found himself envying since he met her. He believed that the jumper she had stolen probably belonged at the top of the list, but that ice cream was having a go at the number two slot.

"And time has just flown," she was saying, while his eyes glued themselves carefully to his plate to avoid admiring the devotion she was paying to her sundae. The most difficult thing about it, he rather thought, was that she didn't seem to be aware of what she was doing. From another girl, it would be deliberate seduction, but Rose just happened to be incredibly sensual without any idea of the spell she cast.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, it's like, since I started working at Henrick's, I really thought the days would just drag on, because they do while I'm there, but I looked at the calendar today and do you know Saturday will be May?"

He grinned up at her, then wished he hadn't, because she had just lifted her spoon to her lips and was teasing the ice cream with her tongue. A waiter dropped a tray at the next table, snapping the spell, and Joshua turned to glare, since he knew why that tray had taken a sudden interest in gravity, even if Rose didn't. He turned back to her look of confusion, and babbled the first thing that popped into his head. "Beltane," he said. "Used to be a really popular holiday here abouts. Lambing and jumping bonfires and dancing around phallic symbols and going out into the fields to shag them into fertility."

The incredulous expression on her face told him immediately that he'd said way too much, possibly the moment he opened his mouth. "What?" she managed.

"Yeah," he replied, and felt his ears going red. "That might have been one of those things John meant when he said I should keep my know-it-all facts to meself."

She laughed then, a bright, beautiful sound so merry he could practically see the golden notes dancing from her parted lips. He grinned sheepishly and then laughed with her, unable to help himself.

"You should do that more often," she said gently, and excused herself to the ladies.

He looked after her and thought, as he watched her hips swaying gracefully, that he might would if she were around to encourage him.

He took advantage of her absence to order himself another drink and have the table cleared up a bit. Normally, he wouldn't have considered hanging around, moving this conversation to a pub or club instead, but in here, Rose was all his, even if others were watching her. He had her full attention, and he craved it at least as much as the alcohol. He didn't consider himself to be all that stable, really - his nightmares and the booze told him that much, if nothing else did - but being with Rose was worth trying something new.

* * *

"Why don't you sing professionally?" Joshua asked, almost as soon as Rose got back to the table.

Earlier, she would have just gaped at him in astonishment. Instead, she grinned and turned the tables. "This from the man who plays better than Elton John. How'd you take up piano, anyway?"

He smiled. "Learned from Beethoven," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "And Shakespeare taught you to write, I s'pose?" she said.

"Other way round," he told her, with that manic grin and shining eyes. "And you're trying to change the subject, and I won't have it. Why aren't there screaming little Rose Tyler fan girls all over the country?"

"I can't write music. I mean, I can read it some, yeah, learned it in school, but I can't write it down, and definitely not like you did."

He shrugged. "It's like just one more language to me, and I can translate it," he said. "I'll teach you some time, if you want."

"What, seriously?"

"Yeah," he offered. "You'll get a handle on it pretty quickly, I s'pose, clever as you are."

She shook her head and made a different request, to change the subject and because, honestly, she just liked listening to him talk. His accent was wonderful and his voice was dark and lilting and just completely sexy. "Tell me about Beltane."

He talked about pagans and Druids and old religions that followed the seasons, and the way he talked, with brilliance and enthusiasm, she wondered why he wasn't a teacher. She'd've learned a lot more in a class listening to this, the stories, the comparisons to her world, the way these things had survived their creators, than the dry recitatives she endured at her comprehensive.

They moved on from that to other things, and his knowledge of the world was almost staggering. It seemed like only a few minutes passed before she realized that the crowd had thinned considerably. "What time is it?" she wondered aloud.

"Nine fifty-seven," Joshua replied, not looking at a watch. There was no clock in view, so how did he do that? Maybe it was a military thing. "You have work in the morning, don't you?" he added, sounding just a bit disappointed. "We'd probably better get you home."

"Yeah," she agreed, trying not to feel too disappointed herself.

There was a bit of a wait for the check, and then they were ready to go. He offered her his arm to escort her again, and she smiled at this. She'd never been treated like a lady like this. Just blokes getting the door for her, never all this seat holding and escorting and...

Joshua snatched a wine glass that toppled from the tray a waiter was holding while maneuvering around her. It had been upset in the shuffle and probably would have hit at least her shoes if not her new dress. His fingers moved like lightning and closed on it without spilling a drop. He handed it back to the waiter with a curt nod, then paused to check on her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"How did you do that?" she wondered.

He shrugged. "Soldier's reflexes," he replied, and then winced. "Don't worry about it."

She nodded and let it go, at last having confirmation of something she'd wondered. Joshua didn't want to think about his military days at all.

Outside, he swore softly and colorfully, trying to keep it low so she couldn't hear it. Still, she understood it completely. Typical London. It was bloody pouring!

"See, I go to all that trouble to keep you dry and the weather won't have it!" He sounded annoyed and mischievous at the same time somehow and reached into a pocket, probably after one of those little umbrellas.

"S'like one of those commercials," she said, feeling like a little mischief herself. "New dress, nice suit, dinner for two, all that. Walking in the rain? Priceless." And she grabbed his hands and dragged him out from under the awning while he stared at her, eyes wide and uncomprehending.

In moments, her hair and her dress were soaked through, but Joshua had his arm around her and was laughing while she sang "Singing in the Rain" quite cheerfully and jumped in puddles like a toddler. She was having the time of her life, and it had nothing to do with the lovely dinner or the posh new frock, and everything to do with the man who was holding her hand and cheerfully ignoring the people who were gaping at them like they were mad.

At the corner, they managed to hail a taxi quite easily. The driver probably thought they'd be good for a laugh. The ride home wasn't as pleasant as the rest of the evening, thanks to the slowly drying clothes sticking to her, and the chill in the air, even though Joshua had asked the driver to turn on some heat for her. Still, she found it to be a good excuse for a cuddle. Joshua gave good cuddles, one arm round her back, his cool hand resting on her waist to draw her closer. "Do you have a mobile?" she asked.

He fished it out and watched her with an utterly fascinated expression while she punched her own mobile number in and then, for good measure, the number to the flat as well. She saved them and handed it back to him, grinning cheekily.

"Fantastic," he said, looking at the numbers like they were some kind of new and unique language or something. "Thank you."

And he still hadn't kissed her, dammit. Didn't he know he'd earned one for any one of the brilliant things he'd done for her tonight? Staying sober, talking to her like she was intelligent human being, taking her to the nicest place she'd ever been in her life, rescuing her from the wine glass, laughing because it was gorgeous when he laughed, any of that? At least for letting her drag him out in the rain?

When they got to her flat, she was a bit drier, so they darted for the covered area to keep her from going home completely drenched.

"You do know I had an umbrella, I hope?" he said.

"Didn't care," she told him and tilted her face up. He let her invitation float right past him and walked her up the stairs to her flat. At the door she stopped and turned to him, determinedly. "This was the best date I have ever had," she told him, sincerely. "Thank you, so much."

She reached up to cup his cheek and, for a second, saw that glorious, brilliant grin, and then his face stilled as she drew up on her toes to get closer to him. He was nervous. Oh. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. His came up around her waist, his coat still quite wet from the walk in the rain. He lowered his head just enough, and finally, finally, their lips met, for real this time, on purpose.

That earth-turning sensation appeared again, but she was ready for it this time, so she didn't freeze or pull back. His lips were cool and surprisingly soft against hers. They also sent tingles of sensation all down her body, even curling her toes.

He seemed to have decided, though, to keep it very chaste, because he pulled back before she could try to deepen the kiss at all. He leaned over her so their foreheads touched, then pulled away from her entirely, his hand coming up to cup her chin. "Rose Tyler, you are fantastic," he told her, sincerely, those eyes shining back into hers with such joy and longing that she couldn't understand how, never mind why, he was being so careful about this. "Can I call you tomorrow?" he asked.

"You'd better," she said sternly.

He nodded, placed a second kiss on her cheek, and then loped off down the stairs. Unwilling, even now, to let it end, she leaned over the guardrail to watch him. When he appeared, she called his name quietly, so as not to wake the neighbors.

He turned back with a question in his eyes.

"Dream about me," she instructed.

The grin was back, then, the force of it enough to warm her through even from this distance. "You know I will," he said, and got back in the taxi for the trip to his flat.

She leaned back against the door, her heart pounding in her chest. God, but she loved him.


	16. Chapter 15

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We have now gotten the Doctor and Jack to sit on the same sofa. We're about to show them the finale of Season Four. If you hear really loud screaming throughout time and space, you'll know why. We'll get him to sign yet!**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 15:**

When Joshua turned a corner and vanished from her sight, Rose sighed and leaned against the railing for a moment, a grin fixed firmly in place, before going in. She shut the door carefully, almost silently and turned around to see Jackie Tyler glaring at her.

She instantly began her tirade. "Look at you, drenched to the skin. Shame on him for not taking better care of you, and that dress'll be ruined, no doubt."

"Mum, I'm the one who dragged him into the rain. He was the perfect gentleman, as I'm sure you saw." Rose set her jaw in irritation.

Jackie had the grace to look embarrassed upon being caught spying through the peephole. To herself, she had to admit that the scene had melted her heart. But she was Rose's mother, and she'd be damned if she'd let the man hurt her little girl.

"C'mon, let's get you dried off. At least he got you home at a decent hour," she groused, pulling her daughter into the loo for a towel.

Behind Jackie, Rose grinned, knowing that the reluctant compliment meant that Jackie was warming to Joshua.

The next morning the entire bus got to listen in as Rose chattered away on her mobile to Shireen about the night before. Older women watched her get off, smiling at the exuberance of young love. Younger women wondered why they couldn't find one.

Through carefully coordinated chaos, Rose managed to enter the sequence of commands Wilson had assured her would short out the register. It worked like a charm and he was there in a matter of seconds, anxious for all the details.

Rose could have told the story a thousand times, longing to relive the night. Every aspect seemed to reassert itself when she thought of it, the sound of his laugh, the light in his eyes, the smell of him as they cuddled in the cab, the feel of the rain on her face, the taste of his lips lingering on hers. Even now she imagined she could taste it.

Nothing could bother her that day, not even Stephanie. Rose just lost herself in her memories and smiled through the sarcasm. Stephanie was nonplussed. She couldn't comprehend what had elicited such a change. While the other shop girls, customers, even Joseph recognized the symptoms, Stephanie, having never been selfless enough to love, couldn't identify the calm glow that suffused Rose.

* * *

Joshua awoke that morning from the first full night's sleep he'd had in months. An unfamiliar calm had seeped into him. As ordered, Joshua had dreamt of Rose. He had pictured her laughing in the sunlight, singing in the spotlight and smiling while the firelight of Beltane kissed her skin.

When he saw his face in the mirror on his way to the shower, Joshua stopped. He stared at the man he saw. He couldn't see whatever it was Rose must, but he was arrested by his image's smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone and sober and smiling. This man had been allowed, the night before, to kiss Rose Tyler.

A novel thought originated in Joshua's mind. Maybe this man wasn't as useless as he'd always supposed. Maybe he should stop throwing his life away on whiskey. It wasn't a resolution, or even a decision. It was just a budding idea, but Joshua had completed three more poems for his book before he opened the liquor cabinet for the first time that day. It occurred to him, as he took his first swig, that this was unprecedented.

Rose's mobile started ringing almost as soon as she walked in the flat. She fished it out of her pocket and frowned at the display which read "Unknown Caller."

"'Ello?"

A familiar voice cleared its throat nervously on the other end. Rose smiled and gestured to her mum that she was going up to the roof. Jackie rolled her eyes and nodded. After a pause during which Rose made it nearly a third of the way up the ladder, Joshua spoke.

"Hello. Blimey, but I'm rubbish at this. Um, is this okay? The calling, I mean. That is, you said I could last night and-"

Rose wanted to laugh from the joy of hearing his voice. And, though she didn't want Joshua to be uncomfortable around her, having him so flustered on her account was empowering. It enforced the feeling of being cherished that he instilled. She held back from laughing, though, knowing that Joshua would believe she was laughing at him rather than just expressing her elation.

"It's fine," she rushed to assure him.

"Oh. Fantastic," Joshua breathed.

There was a pause during which Rose suspected he was taking a swig. She knew he couldn't have had too much to drink, because his speech wasn't at all affected, but she suspected that he had needed some liquid courage to call.

"How was your day?" Joshua asked after bolstering his confidence.

"You called to ask how my day was?"

"I…I just wanted to talk to you. About anything. This way, I can make sure you're okay, too."

Rose blushed, and cradled the phone a bit more tenderly.

"I like talking to you, too. About anything." She mirrored his words warmly. "I never thought history could be so interesting, but the way you described Beltane - I wish I could have seen it." She could hear him swallow, though whether he was downing another gulp or whether it was a nervous reflex, Rose couldn't be sure.

"If you really want to see Beltane, experience it, we should go to Glastonbury Tor tomorrow." Joshua sounded as if he were cringing, waiting to be told to sod off. Rose was certain she was the bright red of a traffic light. Something he had told her the night before surfaced in her memory. For a couple to attend Beltane together, it was tantamount to declaring their love.

"Do I have to dance naked in front of hundreds of strangers?" she queried cheekily, deflecting from what she really wanted to ask. His deep chuckle warmed her through.

"No, they've toned it down a bit for modern sensibilities."

Rose beamed, though she knew he couldn't see it. "I'd love to."

"Fantastic! I'll…uh, pick you up at noon? We could grab some lunch before we got on our way." His voice was timid again.

"Sounds great, but…what'll you pick me up in? Your car is in the shop. I was there when they towed it, you know. Said it would be two weeks at least, he did."

"Ah. Right." Joshua sounded stunned and Rose could just imagine the look on his face. She grinned. "I'll rent something, never you worry."

"Alright, then. See you Saturday. I look forward to it."

After some overly long good byes, neither wanting to hang up, Rose rang off and ran down to her flat, laughing.

"Mum, I know you wanted to go shopping tomorrow, but it'll have to wait."

"Why's that, sweetheart?"

"I have a date!"

* * *

May the first dawned bright and clear. The sun had managed to burn away the chill, and summer was surreptitiously sneaking across the land. Rose wasn't surprised when, despite the warmth, Joshua was still sporting his wool jumper and leather jacket. Seconds after he rang the bell, she stepped out into the sun in a lavender halter top that flowed down to just above the hem of her pleated cream skirt. Over her shoulder, Rose had casually slung a thin quilt to spread on the ground.

"Bye, mum!" Rose called, pulling the door shut behind her.

Joshua drank in the sight of her, hair gleaming in the noon sun, eyes glittering with excitement, skin glowing with her warmth. Impulsively, he swept her up in his arms, like a bride about to cross the threshold …And why did that idea send a surge of possessiveness through him? Joshua beamed down at her.

"Your chariot awaits, madam."

Rose squealed and laughed and ordered him to put her down, all the while twining her arms around his neck. Joshua felt his grin widen and was certain he looked quite goofy, but he couldn't care less. He tightened his hold on Rose and carried her down the stairs to his temporary vehicle.

"Oh, it's so cute!" Rose cooed as he placed her in her seat.

Joshua grimaced. It was a yellow mini cooper convertible with a black top, already put down, and a black stripe along the base. As small honey bee decal decorated both front doors. I sickened him a bit, but it was the biggest car the rental place had available, apparently there was some big, posh wedding and the great and good from around the world were flying in to be a part of it. Joshua could barely get his long legs in this thing as it was. He wouldn't be able to fit into anything smaller. He just had to deal with the 'cute' car for the day. On the plus side, it provided him with an excellent opportunity to see Rose laughing in the sunlight, her hair streaming back behind her. Maybe it wasn't an entire loss.

When Rose was settled, Joshua took the blanket from her to place in the back seat and, for the first time, noticed exactly how much skin along her back and arms was exposed.

"Joshua?"

He started and met Rose's eyes, realizing that he must have been staring. His thoughts had completely deserted him, and now she was grinning up at him, her tongue peeking out smugly. He realized that she was getting exactly the reaction she wanted. Rose wanted him to want her. The thought awed him.

"Yeah?" He managed to squeak out.

"I asked where we were going for lunch."

"Oh. Did you?"

"Yeah. Twice." She was smirking now.

"Ah. I dunno. What d'you want?"

"Chips," she told him saucily.

Joshua beamed. "Chips it is," he announced and crossed to his side of the car.


	17. Chapter 16

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. To our utter confusion, the Doctor is running around the place screaming protests and Jack is chasing him with various implements of destruction. We haven't got much sense out of them, but Jack has been heard to yell such things as "Never see her again!", "Didn't let me say goodbye!", and "Hound you for all eternity and I can do it, by God!". Maybe they'll sign? If they ever settle down, we'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 16:**

Glastonbury Tor was, Joshua explained on the drive, an ideal place for Beltane to be held. The area was a hub of mythological significance, both pagan and Christian. Jesus was said to have walked here. King Arthur may have been buried in Glastonbury Abbey. When Rose pointed out that both of those people were Christian, Joshua launched into an explanation of how Arthur was really a pagan myth adopted by the Catholics under a thin veneer of Christianity. After all, if it were Christian in origin, Merlin couldn't have existed as an occult force and a good guy. It is said, he continued, that the hill was placed at a convergence of two ley-lines, imbuing the area with considerable spiritual power.

"So, who all's gonna be there?" Rose asked as they neared the hill.

"Wiccans and neo-pagans, mostly. A few like us, just here for a good time to see what it's all about."

A large pyre had been built on the summit of the hill but hadn't yet been lit when Joshua parked the car. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, and children were picking them in the dwindling light. Rose stared in awe of the festivities surrounding them. There was a maypole with men and women dancing around it, each trailing a ribbon. A few families were treating this as a picnic, laughing and chatting, oblivious to the sexual overtones in almost everything that surrounded them. Several large glasses were being passed around, with more being poured near the unlit pyre. A few small fires dotted the hill with couples dancing around them to the music provided by a small orchestra composed primarily of string and wind instruments, a single drummer kneeling on the grass.

Rose's door opened beside her, and she jumped. Looking up into Joshua's smiling eyes, Rose realized she'd been so absorbed in the spectacle in front of her that she'd forgotten to get out of the car. He took her hand and helped her from the car, and when she stood beside him, he didn't let go. Joshua leaned his head down to murmur in her ear.

"Looks like they're getting ready to light the main bonfire. Wanna watch?"

Rose beamed and nodded, bouncing a little in excitement.

The pyre was set alight after a supplication to the gods for a fruitful year. Dozens of glasses of the drink were passed out until everyone had one. Rose sniffed it suspiciously.

"Mead," Joshua supplied.

Rose made a face, but shrugged amiably. "When in Rome," she said, tapping her glass against his. "Cheers."

Joshua hesitated a moment before the glass hit his lips. He hadn't had a drink all day. There was no way he'd take that kind of risk with Rose's life. He wasn't certain if he should join Rose in partaking of the traditional brew. But the smell of it was tickling at his brain, and Rose was obviously okay with him having a drink. He took a sip and grimaced, not enamored of the taste, but grateful of the familiar burn which was already sending tingles down his arm.

No, wait, that was Rose's hand doing that. She was smiling up at him, her hand resting on his elbow.

"Thank you."

"For?"

"For thinking about it before you drank. For actually considering whether or not you should."

Her voice was soft, but he easily made out what she said over the crowd. She'd been watching him, he realized, not to manipulate him in to not drinking, but just to see his reaction to the festivities. His thoughts must have been written across his face. This fantastic woman accepted him as he was. His drinking didn't matter, not really, his efforts, his thoughtfulness were what mattered to her. Joshua was positive he didn't deserve her.

Rose's smile became inviting. "There are two free ribbons at the Maypole. Join me?"

Joshua grinned and nodded.

Rose weaved in and out of sight, skipping among her fellow revelers, spiraling ever closer to the center, closer to him. They began at opposite sides and, throughout the procession were brought close together, almost brushing against each other so that Joshua could feel the breeze her hair caused as it flew past and get a faint whiff of her perfume before she was gone.

Their eyes were continuously seeking each other out so that he could almost feel her gaze, playful and gentle and warm. As they wound around the pole, the distances between them grew smaller, the time between their meetings grew shorter until he was almost drowning in the sight, sound, smell of her, but still they didn't touch.

Joshua began to understand the nature of this tradition. It either stoked the desire in a relationship or tested its durability. Several other young couples were going through the same motions as Joshua and Rose with less success. Joshua knew, without looking, that some of the men were watching Rose rather than their partners. A rather pretty man of thirty or so was drawing similar attention from some of the women. But Rose and Joshua ignored everything but the weaving and each other. Joshua was brought out of this reverie by his knuckles skimming the rough surface of the pole. His ribbon was wrapped around the pole for its entire length. His part of this ceremony was done. His free hand reached for Rose even as he dropped the ribbon.

With the night come, the pleasant breeze had turned into a harsh wind, bitter over the loss of its comforter, the sun. Rose and Joshua returned to the bonfire and each had a glass of warm mulled wine pressed into their hands. Joshua took a brief trip to the car to grab the throw, and the two sat by the fire observing, chatting, constantly being handed drinks. Rose was leaning into Joshua's side, his arm draped around her waist.

From time to time, Joshua's shoulders would stiffen and his eyes flash dangerously as he set his jaw, never while he was looking at Rose, but when they were silently watching the festivities. It didn't take long for Rose to catch on. The pretty boy from the maypole came over and introduced himself to Rose. She felt Joshua's grip on her waist tighten slightly and smiled. Patrick, his name was, and he asked where she was from. Halfway through her answer, Patrick glanced amicably at Joshua and paled. He quickly excused himself. Rose turned to Joshua with an eyebrow raised.

"You don't have to chase off my prospective dance partners," she told him, unable to hide a knowing smirk. "I'm a big girl and can make my own decisions."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joshua said, trying to hide his nervousness behind a large sip of the latest drink he'd been given.

"You do know," Rose told him, her smirk widening and her tongue coming out to play. "I think," she continued cheekily, "that if you're going to chase them away, you should have to replace them. Dance with me."

Joshua opened his mouth to refuse, but Rose had put on a pout. He wanted that smile to come back. And, though he hated dancing on principle, he did want to feel Rose in arms. The alcohol saturating his veins whispered to him that the surest way to woo Rose was to impress her. Joshua closed his mouth to the refusal that was burgeoning forth. He smiled confidently.

"You wanna see my moves, Rose Tyler? I'll show you." Joshua stood and pulled Rose to her feet, his fingers ghostly along the exposed skin at her midriff before he hauled her over towards the dancing couples.

The beat was slow, the movements, sinuous. Rose hadn't expected Joshua to agree, but was thrilled that he had. She had been watching the dancers off and on for hours now, so it only took a few moments for her to fall into step. Joshua must have been watching as well, because his dancing was flawless. They never touched, but they came so close, she could feel his fingers tease the short hairs on her arms, which stood at attention as though craving his brief, light ministrations.

When watching the other dancers, Rose had imagined that if she were to join them, the movements would be sensuous but she hadn't been prepared for how erotic it was when she was joined by Joshua. He was fluid but powerful in his motions, all lithe, easy grace and dark compulsion. His eyes never left her, drinking her in. There was an intense clarity in his eyes that made Rose blush, made her wonder if he had really had a single drink, made her feel like the only person in the world apart from him. She was too overcome to smile, but she followed him, returning his gaze, hoping he could see what this meant to her.

The song ended. For the first time since the dance began, they touched. Simply holding hands seemed to jolt her back to awareness. She was at an ancient fertility ceremony with the man she had fallen in love with. It was dark. The families who had come were all gone, many couples had left, only a quarter of the celebrants remained.

They walked back to the blanket in silence, both of them suddenly shy. When they sat, they no longer cuddled, though they were still close to each other. Rose turned to face him, instantly attracting his attention and his smile.

"Thank you for bringing me. This is wonderful." Rose smiled then, letting her joy shine through. She was loving this. It was like being in a private world, almost, with Joshua. It felt like it was just the two of them. Even though they might flit into the middle of the action, they were always outside of it, somehow, separate. Just them.

Joshua stared at her, thunderstruck. He'd dreamed of this, of her smiling at him in the fires of Beltane. For a moment, an irrational fear flashed through his hearts that this was another dream, and, oh, he wanted this to be real. He reached a hand out to cup her cheek, testing its soft firmness, its weight, its reality. Rose sighed and slipped her eyes closed at his touch. Joshua was certain this was real, and that was fantastic. He let his thumb brush over her lower lip and she shivered.

Her eyes opened and he was lost in them.

He lowered his head and captured her lips with his, relishing her quick and passionate reply, allowing himself to explore her as he had wanted to almost since he'd met her, no matter how he tried to deny it. Her mouth opened beneath him when he nibbled her lower lip, a silent request. Rose's hands wrapped around him, one hand speared through his hair, the other snaked under his jacket and ran up his spine. His hand that cupped Rose's cheek slipped back to cradle her head, giving him leverage to take control of the kiss. His tongue slid along hers, tickled the roof of her mouth, plunged into the dark recesses of her mouth until she whimpered when he pulled back to allow them both time to breathe.

Still panting, Rose began laying kisses along his jaw, trailing down to suckle his Adam's apple, trying to push his jacket off his shoulders.

Joshua stiffened. "No," he protested.

Rose sprang back as if burned, confused and in pain. "Right. Of course you don't want to-" Rose's voice almost broke before it was silenced by Joshua's mouth back on hers, killing her words of self-doubt but trebling her confusion. When they broke apart again, both were panting for breath.

"Sorry - what?" Rose sputtered. "You say no, and then you kiss me like that?"

"I don't mean 'no.'" Joshua said as though that explained everything. At Rose's look of frustration, he swooped in for a brief kiss to soothe the frown on her brow. "I mean…not here, not like this, not now."

Rose grabbed his hand and laid a kiss on his knuckles. "I don't care where, or how, or when, as long as it's with you."

"Oh, but I do. I want it to be perfect for you. I want to be perfect for you. I've…seen things, done things that are so terrible. I want you to know everything. I would never want you to regret this." Rose opened her mouth to protest, but Joshua shook his head to silence her. She complied, but he could tell it was with reluctance. "I want you, Rose. I want to know every inch of you. I…I want you to scream for God and mean me. But I'm not ready yet."

Rose kissed him then, tenderly, patiently. "I'll wait for you," she promised.


	18. Chapter 17

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor is currently cowering in the cellar. Jack is with him. Some bloke with glasses and dark hair (what's left of it) is playing with the doorbell. We're really not sure what's up, but this guy seems like a pretty good threat. Maybe they'll both sign if we threaten to let this character in?**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 17:**

John Benton sighed. These weekly status updates were becoming more and more like a soap-opera. He'd feel like he was intruding if the whole thing wasn't so amusing. The Brigadier approached every meeting with his usual dignity. Doris had taken to participating to give a more balanced approach to matters of the heart.

What had surprised John was how readily Harry participated in these little chats. The reticent little doctor was almost eager to take part. Maybe it was a joy for him to see the mighty Time Lord reduced to a man in love. Maybe it was some weird little quirk of that proper English upbringing that Benton had managed to evade. Whatever the cause, the effect was useful. Though Sullivan still stumbled around certain ideas, he was at least willing to research them, if not discuss his findings.

"At first I thought that it would be impossible. After all, humans and Gallifreyans have a different number of chromosomes. But then I remembered that horses and donkeys have a different number of chromosomes but can still mate to produce mules." Sullivan was explaining. Benton was impressed that he could say the word mate when in conjunction with equines but not humanoids. "So I took a look at our sample of his DNA and, as he so frequently does, he turned everything on its ear. See, some of the amino acid sequences that his DNA codes for-"

"You mean, proteins," Benton interrupted, hating medical double-speak.

"Yes, I do, but whenever I say protein, people assume I mean muscle and the like. People don't seem to realize that not all proteins are confined to moving bones."

"Do you mind stepping down from your soapbox for a moment, Dr. Sullivan, and returning to the subject at hand?" the Brigadier interrupted with a stoic gaze at his former subordinate. Harry sighed and ran a hand nervously back and forth across his brow.

"Well, see, it might be possible," he spat out in a rush to get the worst over with. Jaws dropped around the table. Mostly the reaction was shock, but Doris seemed to have a hint of a smile to soften her surprise. "I-It's not likely, in fact, it's extremely unlikely, but, if conditions were right. If there were, for instance, a vertical factor involved-"

"A lady is present!" the Brigadier barked right over John's laughing exclamation of, "Against a wall?!"

Doris laid a soothing hand on her husband's arm and shot a stern glance at Benton which quickly quieted him. She smiled understandingly at Harry, knowing how uncomfortable he was with imparting this information, and also knowing that the discomfort was what had precipitated the unfortunate ramble.

"I think we know all we need to about that, Dr. Sullivan," she murmured softly. "For future reference, a simple yes, or no will suffice."

* * *

"That's a gift, though," Doris told Alistair Gordon that night as she climbed into bed.

"What was that?"

"He could have a baby," Doris explained, realizing that she couldn't start a conversation without first introducing the topic, not even with her husband. The Brigadier shook his head in the manner of someone trying to force a thought to make sense.

"You think he'd want one?"

"He's so alone. In his head, it would be good for him to be able to hear someone. I don't know if humans can fill that need. If they can, then Rose is one of the few who might consent to that, but even if they can, it would be so much better for him to have someone who will live as long as he does. Someone who won't disappear into time like we all do.

"And, yes, with time and healing, I believe he will want children. He's been a father before, after all." Doris smiled fondly. "And, from everything I've heard, I believe that Rose would be a wonderful mother."

"Would a half-Time Lord live as long as he does?" Alistair persisted.

"How should I know? We'd have to ask the Doctor, and that isn't going to happen anytime soon. Just let me have my little fantasy of him learning to be happy, and go to sleep." Doris gave her husband a kiss on the cheek and rolled over to flip off the bedside lamp.

* * *

Rose relaxed quietly in the loose circle of Joshua's arms, watching the dancers move around the bonfire, but not really seeing them at all. Her mind was far away from the magical hill, even from the beautiful day they'd spent together. All she could really think about was the pool of heat that spread through her belly, making her limbs languid and her knickers damp. Never in her life had she ever imagined anyone telling her anything like that.

She was going to hear every single word he said, every time she closed her eyes, see his face as he said them. So much for her assessment of a complete gentleman...

But he was, still, that was the thing. His words were so raw, so honest, nothing like a regular bloke would ever say, no matter what he was trying to get her to do, and Joshua, he had said them, not to try to coax her or turn her on, but entirely because he meant them. She shivered. If his voice - just his voice, and his kiss - could do this to her... she shivered again, and tried to banish the train of thought.

"You all right?" Joshua asked solicitously. "You're not getting cold, or anything, are you?" His jacket was off in a second and wrapped around her shoulders, drowning her in the scent of leather and whiskey and whatever that incredible fragrance was that seemed to be just him.

"I'm just fantastic now," she said, and cuddled into the jacket, peeking up at him just in time to watch his bright eyes darken in the firelight.

He breathed a quiet swear word and swooped in to steal another kiss, not that he had to steal them, he could have anything he wanted, she was his now, and all he had to do was claim her. She relished his kiss even though the brush of his lips sent fire coursing through her veins. She wanted him rather more than she wanted to breathe, right now, and his kisses were going to leave her wet and shaking and aching to have him. But if the hiss that escaped him when she ran a curious hand up his thigh was any indication, she wasn't alone in her frustration and that was enough for now.

When he pulled away this time, she was back to looking at the dancers, but it gave her the oddest sensation. Suddenly and strangely, they looked like the originals, not modern copies: people who worshipped the sun and the moon and believed devoutly that what they did this night was absolutely necessary for the world to survive. It was as if Joshua's kiss had tugged them through time, back to the Beltane he had described, the ancient ceremony, the harmony with the world.

She blinked to clear the vision, then blinked again sharply and couldn't stop herself grinning. They were so beautiful, ancient or modern.

"You all right?" Joshua asked again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she agreed. "Are you ok to drive us home?"

Joshua was tempted - oh so very tempted - to say no, to go get them a room for the night, knowing full well that before the night was over, he would probably lose the resolve he made earlier. It would be so easy, just to let it go, to lose himself in the fire of her deep, dark eyes and her soft, inviting body. Instead, he nodded slowly. "I'll be fine," he confessed. "A little lightheaded from someone snogging me, but..."

She giggled. "Who's snogging who?" she demanded in charming, playful indignation.

She was positively adorable, and he was going to adore her for as long as she would have him. "Just need to clear my head a mo'," he promised, and stood up. Offering her his hand, he considered the fields around them before picking a relatively aimless direction. "Walk with me?" he invited.

She bounced to her feet and took his hand, wriggling a bit to set his jacket on her shoulders just so. Blanket on the ground, jacket behind her head, clothes flung wherever they landed, and they could bless the fields with the rest of them. He closed his eyes and shut that exquisite vision away, snatching up her little quilt as an afterthought. He had all the time in the world, and he could take his time to be careful of her. Thinking about it, he came up with an idea, just something gentle to start with.

They had walked a bit away from the bonfire now, and it was dark enough and reasonably clear. He looked up, checking the night sky against his memories of the places he knew about. All right, there. "What do you know about astronomy?" he asked.

"Not a lot," she admitted, nibbling at her lip as she thought. "We got to see a planetarium once when I was in school. God, it was like flying through space and stuff, and when I stood up afterwards, I felt like... like I could just fall..."

He smiled at the image she presented. He often felt that way about her eyes. "Look up," he said, and tugged her close, her back to him, wrapping his arms around her so she could lean back against him.

She gasped as the view of the night sky caught her attention. "Oh, wow," she murmured breathlessly. "You can never see this at home."

"Nope," he agreed. "Too much light pollution. This is fine enough, view's even better from Uncle Alistair's. One thing I can never get used to about London is never seeing the stars properly." He pointed out a few constellations to her, enjoying the way she responded to his voice curling around her ear. Then, at last, when she was relaxed and seemed almost dreamy, he swallowed hard, then pointed to the star he had picked out earlier. "That one is called Alpha Persei," he said. "Locally known as Mirfak. It's actually a supergiant star, about eighty or so times the size of the sun, part of a large cluster of stars in the area. It's a little over six hundred light years away."

She nodded slowly, and he tilted his head so he could see her eyes, soft and bright with wonder. The expression of joy and fascination on her face was all it took to convince him to continue. "And orbiting that star are ten little planets. The fifth one out is called 'Anaptrix' by the locals, it means 'home' in their language. They're a very serious, very quiet people, the Anath, but you'd like them very much, because they love music, all sorts of music, they'd sing all the time if you let them."

"What do they look like?" she wondered.

He was surprised, but answered her question. "They're about five foot tall on average, and they're a bright green, 'bout the color of grass. Look a bit like Shasta daisies, I've always thought, because they wear these hats..."

She giggled. "That's brilliant," she said. "Little green men who look like plants."

He shrugged. "They don't have sexes. Well, not as such. They're a bit like plants that way, too. Just one gender, all of 'em."

"Did you make this up?" she wondered aloud.

He paused for a minute, a bit confused, and then realized that it had to sound like fiction, either something he'd read or something he'd invented. "Nope," he said. "They're completely real."

She turned in his arms to look at him, just look, studying his eyes, looking for something in the cant of his shoulders and the set of his face. At last, she turned again and settled comfortably against him.

"Do you believe me?" he asked, almost surprised to realize that it was completely imperative to him.

"Yeah," she said, at last, and she sounded almost as if she was surprised to hear herself say something like that. Her voice was full of curiosity and wonder as she said, "Tell me more."

He talked quite a bit about the Anath, telling her about their culture, about their language, about the fact that they firmly believed Paul McCartney was a god. She chuckled at that. "What does Sir Paul think of that?" she wondered.

"Don't think they've ever been introduced," he replied, amused. "That'd be a real mess, can you imagine?"

She nodded and he tucked his nose into her hair, just cherishing her innocent trust and her summer sweet fragrance. She was astonishingly easy to talk to, listening so quietly, asking such clever questions. He knew the hard one was coming, and waited for it, not entirely sure how he would react when she demanded to know how he knew so much about a planet no telescope from Earth could even detect.

But when it came at last, it was gentle, tentative, leaving him nearly as staggered as her kisses. "Can you tell me how you know all this?"

Not "tell me", not even just "how". He kissed her hair. "Not yet," he said. "Bit of a long story, really."

She yawned and he grinned. "OK," she agreed. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're brilliant, you know that?"

"Yeah," he said, and she laughed at him. He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "But I'm glad you think so. Think it's time we head out, Rose Tyler, don't you?"

"Yeah, all right," she agreed and took his hand.

He beamed down at their joined hands. They just looked right together, and felt perfect. "Fantastic," he said.

She leaned into him and nodded.


	19. Chapter 18

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Somehow, both of them have escaped. We're not sure when it happened or how, but there's some 15-year-old fangirl on the doorstep claiming to be Stephen Moffitt and demanding we return them. Oh, there they are. Hiding in the attic. We're going to get the contracts again and see what happens.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 18:**

Jackie remembered hearing once that American news programs tried to enforce curfews by saying things like "It's 11 o'clock. Do you know where _your_ child is?" Well, it was half eleven, and she didn't, and she wasn't panicking. Maybe she was getting old, but instead of pacing the hall, she was nearly asleep, curled up in bed next to a bloke she found on the bus. It hadn't taken half a bottle of gin to achieve this.

Jackie's last thoughts of the evening weren't worried ponderings of where Rose was and what she was doing, as they had often been during the Jimmy Stone relationship, despite Jackie's fondness for the boy. Before following her partner into slumber she instead mused over why she wasn't wondering about her daughter's safety.

She did not trust _that man_. Her thoughts towards him could never be mistaken for anything like trust. Nor did she like him. No one would be delusional enough to believe that. She was firm in her conviction that the man was a drunken cradle robber, some one who was dangerous to her only daughter, and still shameless in his courtship of her. Jackie couldn't fathom how he had managed to so enthrall Rose, except that she tended to fall for the broken ones who she thought she could help.

_That man_ had done nothing to gain Jackie's confidence, but she couldn't summon the energy to fret about him driving Rose all the way to Glastonbury. It couldn't be that Rose trusted him, though that didn't hurt. Jackie still had no faith in him.

Maybe that was it. He didn't require faith or belief. It was just that Jackie knew, when she looked at them together, that he would do whatever it took to take care of her daughter, even if it seemed wrong to others at the time. Time, she suspected, would prove him right in what would probably be a most frustrating manner. Jackie gave a mental shrug and rolled over into slumber.

* * *

Rose wasn't aware of falling asleep on the drive back to London, but she was aware of Joshua's fascination when she sang along with the radio, and how comfortable and right it felt just to watch him drive. She was also painfully aware of the blush that stained her cheeks when he woke her with a tender touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

She shook her head. "I must look a right mess," she replied, honestly, running a hand up through her tousled curls.

"Still beautiful," he said, then cleared his throat nervously. "Let me walk you up."

"Thanks," she agreed and climbed out of the little car, slowly, stretching like a cat to shake out the kinks from sitting still so long. She lowered her arms and opened her eyes to find him watching her, his eyes dark and hot with undisguised longing. Made her feel better, that did.

Another slow climb up the steps, a soft, tender kiss full of so much promise, a few quiet thank yous, and Rose found herself alone again. She let herself in and grinned to find that her mum had already gone to bed. That suggested that the older woman was starting to trust them, a bit, which could only be a good thing. She stuck her head in her mum's room to let her know she was home, rolled her eyes at a snoring what's-his-face, and went to bed, where she knew she would dream of dancing under the stars.

* * *

Joshua got home and headed straight for the shower. He needed to cool down, needed to think. The taste of her still lingered, warm and tingling on his lips, and... he stopped and wrote that down, then three more lines that poured out effortlessly after it. Wasn't poetry, not yet, or even prose. More a sort of mad stream of consciousness, but then, he was mad anyway. He could deal with the half finished lines and the exotic, erotic smell of her that clung to his clothes and especially to his jacket. He could even, if he worked at it, handle the sudden ache in his groin and the visions of a delectable Rose Tyler bathed in star light.

What had him right now, though, in an indescribable and unbreakable grip, was the knowledge that his life wasn't over. He'd been so completely sure, though, and he was never wrong. Well, almost never. Mostly never.

He abandoned his pen then and went to take his shower. His mind, however, had latched onto the topic and would not let it go, not until he'd come to some sort of conclusion he could work from to make this thing that was happening make sense.

It had been such a little thing, at first, just the vague idea through his alcohol induced haze that the pink-and-yellow singer had pretty eyes and a voice that sounded... just... right. Then, something had happened - she had needed help and he was there, able to help her, able to protect her from harm. Anyone would have done it, except that no one did. She was surrounded by people who knew her and seemed to adore her and Joshua, the latest in a long line of drunks to huddle at that table in that pub, had been the only person in the room who stood up for her.

Joshua realized now, being completely sober and yet completely intoxicated on the memories of her, that it had started that night. Something had awakened within him, something that had burned off the alcohol and his desperate need to watch the world go by without taking part. He had continued to avoid her after that, but he'd let her insinuate herself in little ways, told her where he lived one night, introduced her to Harry and John another, let her talk to him, let her touch him. It had seemed safe - he'd protected her, he had a right to look after her, even if he shouldn't.

He turned on the water and stepped under the hot spray, his mind still all awhirl with the thoughts racing through it. He'd always been a quick thinker and never liked to dwell, but a mystery was a mystery, and it needed sorting.

It had all started to escalate, with her song in the pub, with her visit to his flat. With the lullaby she'd spontaneously composed to one of his poems. Then, the run through the park and her shining, laughing face, showing him that there was still beauty left in the world, and he could see it if he just looked at the right moment.

He'd stopped fighting it, after that. Something had changed in his mind, and that something was the new compulsion to get closer to Rose Tyler. He'd thought about her every minute he spent in Cardiff, felt something that was very close to need, just to see her face, just to hear her voice. He was alone, but there was her. Something like that.

Then, she had helped him. An accident of timing, a tiny twist of fate, or just the Universe having a laugh at his expense (again), and she had been there, right there, where and when he needed her.

So he'd helped her and she'd helped him. On that level, it made sense that he would be attracted to her, drawn to her a bit, even. But this still felt like something more.

He let his mind drift over the memories of the Beltane celebration. He was fine through silently reliving the earlier part of the day, but his body responded automatically to the memories of their dance and their kisses. He ignored it with effort, but that ache was not going to be ignored forever.

He wanted her, like he couldn't remember wanting someone in a very, very long time. She was young and sweet and splendid, as the blood rushing (double-time, thanks to that second heart) to intensify the throbbing could easily attest. But that couldn't explain why he couldn't just take what she offered and enjoy it while it lasted.

Joshua knew very well that, if he really did tell her everything, all at once, or slowly over time, either way, it was likely he would scare her off. He'd seen and done some horrible things in his lifetime, and some of them, he couldn't even remember. He was not nice and not safe and, since he was a drunk, he was hardly socially acceptable. Rose was soft and gentle and compassionate and kind, everything he wasn't any more. He wanted her, all of her, to be with him, to stay with him, to be his.

That was it.

He didn't just want her for a little while. He wanted to claim her, to make her his, to give the shattered remains of himself into her hands for safekeeping, secure in the knowledge that she would love and inspire what was given to her. She brought out so many things in him and some of them were beautiful things he had nearly forgotten.

It was so obvious, he was surprised the realization hadn't struck him blind. Something ancient and visceral was coming alive in him, the need for complete sharing and true oneness. It had started so simple but it would only continue to gain momentum from here.

Joshua realized then, to his utter amazement, that he was fine with that.

* * *

For her part, Rose went directly to sleep, at peace with the world and her place in it: her place at his side, in his arms. She never wished to lose this feeling, and she suspected that no other person could ever make her feel like this. She didn't have some romantic notion that that they were soul mates, though that sort of described it. No, it was because there could never be anyone else like Joshua. Rose couldn't understand how Shireen didn't get the same feeling when she looked at him. Though, to be honest, Rose was glad that her best mate didn't pose a threat.

A previously fleeting thought propelled her from sleep's arms into alertness. She _never _wanted to lose this feeling. Never.

Rose had been with a broken man before. Jimmy had seemed to be a wounded warrior, fighting the world and needing someone to nurse his injuries. Rose had willingly taken on that role, and she had loved him. But, somewhere deep, somewhere she'd kept hidden from him and her mum and even herself, Rose had imagined that she really was a nurse. She was prepared to patch him up and send him back out into the fray. When he returned, wounded again, some other nurse would take up his case, and Rose would have moved on to her next patient. She'd always felt guilty about that. She'd hoped it was one of those things that people usually felt but didn't talk about, a fact of love that was left out of novels.

Maybe that was why she'd initially let him treat her worse than she'd imagined a relationship should warrant. It didn't take long before it was habit for her to accept his abuse. Whenever he got worse and she thought of leaving, she would remember that a part of her that felt as though she was just biding her time. She'd wonder if, perhaps, he could tell that she wasn't properly invested in him, if he were lashing out in fear and hurt. If this was her fault. So she'd stayed.

She'd known if she ever hooked up with Mickey, she would feel the same, so she'd avoided it, though it had hurt him. She didn't want to know it was temporary. She didn't want to feel guilty for not wanting forever.

But, God, with Joshua this longing for forever had snuck up on her, though she knew it couldn't turn out how she imagined. She sensed somehow that they might never grow old together. All the same, she wanted to know him in every possible way. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to claim him as hers and only hers for eternity, and wanted to be claimed in return.

Oddly enough, she was fine with that.


	20. Chapter 19

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. So far, the Doctor has asked for scripts to the entirety of Seasons Five, Six, and Seven before he'll sign. Jack only insists on Season Four, but he'd also like OV's ideas for his team's big screen debut before he'll touch the paper. So far, I have one story where Jack gets incinerated - he likes it - and one where the Doctor and the TARDIS get kidnapped - he's confused. We'll let you know.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 19:  
**

Joshua managed to get all the way through Monday completely sober, by the simple expedient of not going to sleep. He worked on his poems, he thought about Rose, he returned the rental, he thought about Rose, he talked to his uncle, he thought about Rose, he wandered over to harass Harry for a few hours, he thought about Rose, he actually went out and bought some milk for his fridge, he thought about Rose, he took his blender apart to see why it was making that annoying ticking noise, he thought about Rose, he bought a new blender and, just for the novelty of it, thought about Rose.

She'd called him Sunday night and they'd ended up talking for an hour about baking of all things, but he hadn't seen her since he left her at her door on Saturday night... well, Sunday morning, really. Jenny down the pub was probably wondering by now if he was dead.

On Monday, a typical call to his aunt turned into something that would normally terrify any grown man: an invitation.

Doris had decided two things. The first was a fact that she frequently declared, that she didn't see enough of her nephew. The second was unexpected on Joshua's part, as he had yet to grasp how families typically function. His aunt wanted to meet Rose, wanted them over to dinner. In order to make this feel less (more) like an interrogation, Harry and John would be there as well. She delivered this assurance in what was supposed to be a consoling voice, but it sounded more like mocking to the man who was struggling to breathe.

However, not only did Joshua manage to accept the invitation, he even procured a small measure of gratitude for the fact that Doris was willing to accept Rose into her family. After listening to a bit more of his aunt's calming chatter, which he secretly suspected she did only to allow him time to collect and arrange his thoughts, Joshua even found the notion had something appealing in it. Aunt Doris would love Rose, how could she not? And Rose, he suspected, would be fond of Aunt Doris in return.

It would make the two most important women in his life happy, he realized; it would bring them together. If he played his cards right, maybe it would even give him some time on the balcony, stargazing with Rose. Not too much time, he sternly reminded himself, he wasn't ready for that despite his need for it.

Before he rang off, Joshua thanked his aunt again for the invitation, and this time with genuine gratitude. He was feeling a bit proud of himself and, that night, decided to chance getting some sleep, just to see what happened.

Tuesday morning dawned clear and beautiful and Joshua woke with a strangled yell of abject horror. Then, he sat in his bed and shook, tears rolling down his face unheeded, his throat tight and aching. The _dreams_...

He sat back and shivered violently. He almost remembered some of them, apparently, because all the things he'd been shutting out had Rose mixed up with them, now. He closed his eyes and dug his fists into his forehead, letting his elbows rest on his knees. He'd heard, very clearly heard, her die. It was all scrambled up in there with the nameless monsters that plagued his sleep. One of them had spoken to him. Then Rose had said something, about it not being his fault. And then, she had died.

He struggled free of the blankets and pulled some clean clothes on without really thinking about it. He didn't bother to shower or shave or anything. He had to see her, had to, make sure she was fine, that she was still safe and precious and his.

He knew it was too early for her to be up, but he didn't care. He walked to the nearest Starbucks, bought her a cappuccino with three times the usual amount of cream and himself a "just real coffee, dammit. Black." He had them bag up a couple of danishes and then rang her mobile.

She answered and he could have cried with relief. Instead, he put on a fake cheery voice and invited her to a breakfast with a view. She managed to laugh a bit, despite the early call, demanded half an hour to at least pretend to be human, and rang off. He crossed the street, hurried across the Estate, and found a good spot on the roof for an emergency breakfast.

He thought he had himself almost under control. A quick pull from the flask he kept in his jacket had stilled the trembling in his hands. A few moments breathing in the cool morning air had given him the ability to think almost clearly.

But then Rose appeared. It was half five in the morning and she was hardly awake. Her hair had been pulled back in an untidy bun, and her roots were showing quite clearly. She was wearing rumpled jeans, a pair of done-in old sneakers, and no makeup. His enviable jumper hung large and loose on her small frame and managed to make his stomach clench like someone had punched him.

She looked like a goddess and he didn't care who wanted to argue with him about that. His hands started shaking again and he seized her in a tight hug because he couldn't bear one more moment without her touch. "You're ok, you're fine," he murmured nonsensically, burying his nose in her hair and clinging on to her as if she were the only solid thing left in the Universe.

"Joshua?" she said, after a moment, "what's wrong?"

He raised a hand and dashed the tears from his eyes before she could see them, then took a deep breath and stepped back carefully to look at her. "I'm fine," he lied.

He never had been a good liar, apparently.

"No you're not," she said, and put a soft hand up to touch his stubbled cheek. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing happened. I just..." He sighed and sat down. "I'm a little bit mad, you know. Possibly more than just a little bit."

"Well, yeah," she said, as if it were the most normal thing, to be sitting on the rooftop watching the sun rise over London with a lunatic who barely escaped sectioning on a daily basis.

"Thanks," he said, overwhelmingly relieved, and handed her the cup he'd got for her. "I just needed to see you. That ok?"

"Yeah," she said, and smiled at him, shyly. "I... I'm glad you called me."

"You are?" he asked, awestruck and about a hair's breadth from falling in love.

"Yeah." She opened the bag with the danishes, looked at them briefly, and picked the cherry-cheese one.

He couldn't help it. His face split into a manic grin. "You're fantastic," he told her. "Just completely fantastic." He tugged out the banana nut danish and had a bite.

She nodded and smirked around her mouthful of danish. He stared into her dark eyes and just fancied her down to the soles of her tatty old trainers.

* * *

After breakfast and after Rose had gone to work, there was really nothing for it. Hours stretched, sullenly empty, before him, taunting him with their promise of a joy that was doomed to be entirely too brief. It was his fate, his curse, instinct told him, to be alone, for Rose to follow the path his parents had taken and, as they did, he felt she would take it far too soon for him to be able to contemplate being ready. It was a path that the grey sprinkling Uncle Alistair's hair attested that he was walking along, the path that had taken too many away from him far too often.

Joshua stepped into the shower, intending for the water to snap him out of this funk that he couldn't afford to wallow in or, path or no, he would still lose Rose all too quickly. Unfortunately, the water soon drowned all trace of Rose that lingered on his skin from only minutes before. Far too late, Joshua learned that only that slight aroma of her, so faint it was more of a subconscious hint than a scent, was buoying him as high as he was. Melancholy thoughts that already plagued him escalated quickly into a fatalist track whispering against his skull.

Stepping from the shower did nothing to alleviate the feeling of drowning in the reality of his life. Nothing he did could keep her from leaving him. He knew now that he would need her to stay with him for eternity and very likely beyond. A perverse anticipation of future pain had blossomed into the present.

He sat down in the kitchen and, feeling as if he was definitely failing someone, (himself, his uncle, his Rose, the universe) he pulled out the whiskey, all of it. Then, with all the precision of performing microsurgery with a chain saw, he deliberately set in on a three day bender.

* * *

"He must not be coming," Harry declared when the clock chimed half seven. "I, for one, don't want to eat a dinner that is stone cold because we were waiting for him." The Brigadier sighed in frustration, and Doris took that as her cue to begin serving her guests.

She was more disappointed than anything. Joshua had promised to invite Rose to come with him to their next "family" get-together. She was the only one who had yet to meet this, by all accounts, remarkable young woman, and she was quite impatient to even the score with the men seated at her table.

Dinner passed amiably. The strain that should have been present due to the conspicuous absence of what passed as the guests of honor was forgotten through an unfortunate familiarity with such behavior from one of them, and the likely ignorance of the other.

While the boys were discussing football and simultaneously managing to reminisce about the good old days, Doris discretely slipped into the study. Joshua's phone number was one of the few she knew by heart.

First, she tried his mobile only to hear an unpleasant automatic voice declare that the number she was trying to reach was unavailable and she could press one or stay on the line to leave a message. Next, she dialed his flat. Joshua had never bothered to get an answer phone, so she waited until the likelihood of it being answered was beyond minimal.

Just as she was beginning to lower the receiver, she heard the other end pick up, a small explosion, and distant curses about the impossibility of blenders. A slurred but familiar voice (possibly it was familiar in part due to its inebriated nature) then materialized much closer to her ear. "Oops, must have knocked it over."

The line went dead with a soft click. Doris sighed and rested the receiver back in its cradle. After selecting a book from the many shelves that lined the walls, she headed back into the room where Manchester United was being thoroughly denounced. Settling herself in a nearby chair she asked in an only passingly interested tone, "What was the name of the shop where Rose works, dear?"


	21. Chapter 20

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We are pleased to announce that we now officially own Jenny, Joseph, and Stephanie. Wait, what? We already owned you because we created you?? Then why'd we have to fight so hard to get you!? OV is getting their agent on the phone. The Doctor is in the corner snickering. This is not helping. Stay tuned for the next update...**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 20:**

Joseph escorted an older woman who was elegantly but practically dressed over to Rose. "I'm sure she'll be able to help you find what you need, ma'am. Thank you."

Rose returned Joseph's nod and smiled at the woman, getting the idea that she must be a very good customer of the store. Her face seemed familiar, so Rose expected she must have seen the lady at Henrick's before. "Could I show you something in particular?" she asked politely, enunciating carefully, trying to keep her accent at a minimum.

"Hello, Rose," answered the woman, offering a hand. "I'm sorry we haven't been introduced before. I'm Doris Lethbridge-Stewart, Joshua's aunt."

Rose felt a brief surge of panic, but tamped it down quickly. Joshua had only ever described his aunt in the kindest, most loving words. His uncle was another story, but she didn't see the Brigadier here anywhere. Even if he were, he'd never treated Rose with anything other than politeness, but it would definitely make her worry about Joshua. "I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am. Joshua's told me so much about you." She hoped her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt. She'd not been this nervous meeting this woman's husband, but then, it had been a bad situation and she'd hardly been awake at the time.

"I hope they were nice things," she said with a pretty smile that meant she was certain they were. "And I really hope you don't mind my dropping by your work like this. I thought I could take you to lunch if you had the time."

"Oh," said Rose, not really sure what to say. "I... yes, that would be very nice. I... thank you, ma'am."

"Doris," she corrected, firmly but gently. "When will you be free?"

"Actually, I was just about to go when Joseph stopped me. Just gimme a second. I need to check with someone real quick, ok?"

"All right. I'll wait for you by the door."

Rose fled to the break room to find Wilson waiting. "What do I _do_?" she pleaded, her heart pounding with nerves. "His aunt's come to take me to lunch and... my God, she's like meeting the Queen, or something, Wilson, she's gorgeous and so..."

"Breathe, first," Wilson suggested, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Wait, is this the woman that has Joseph twitching like his pacemaker's set on overdrive?" Wilson laughed then, knowing that if it were known that Rose had left her alone, Joseph really would need a pacemaker. He also knew Rose would freak out if she realized that. He redirected this amusing train of thought and focused on calming his panicking mate. "Obviously she was curious about you. Does she seem nice?"

"Yeah, but Joshua always said she was. He also said... Oh, she's so_ posh_, Wilson! She's gonna think..."

"No, she is not. Whatever you're thinking, she isn't. Now calm down, take a deep breath, get off the clock. There's a nice little cafe on the opposite corner, or you can suggest that posh place down next block."

"S'gotta be the cafe, I can't afford anything else..."

"She'll pay." Wilson stated calmly, aware of the way it could infuriate the worried.

"I don't care!" Rose said. "That's not the point."

"It will be to her. All right. Here's a tenner if you need it. If you do, get me back on payday, yeah?"

"I... Wilson, you're the best, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do. Now get going, time's wasting."

"Thanks!"

* * *

Doris was already regretting her rash decision to drop in to meet Rose, as the girl seemed unbelievably nervous. At first she hadn't been able to even fathom why, but a few nasty glances from the other shop girls directed at Rose's retreating back gave her a pretty good idea. Office politics were the same the world over, whether you were a shop girl or a general's second wife. Some people had too much time on their hands, and easily found time to be insulting behind the backs of the prettiest woman in the office or the "trade-up".

She identified with the poor girl more than Rose would ever understand. When she reappeared, a fixed but sunny smile on her pretty face, Doris returned her smile with warmth and kindness.

Rose suggested a small cafe across the way and Doris thought it looked lovely so she agreed. As they walked, she thought Rose was becoming more relaxed with every single step she took away from Henrick's. "You know, my husband's description of you didn't quite do you justice, but Joshua's is pretty much spot on."

"He's good with words," Rose said, the hint of a little secret in the quirk of her lips.

Doris nodded. "A gifted poet, yes, among other things. But I did come to meet you, not so much talk about Joshua. Don't want him to get the idea he's being spied on."

Rose laughed at that. "Yeah, probably not. No telling what he'd do about it. Though it's a fair bet something would end up blowing up."

They reached the cafe and didn't even have to wait for seats, having beaten the lunchtime crush by a good ten minutes or so. "Do you enjoy your job, Rose?" Doris asked after they'd ordered drinks - ice water for Rose, a cup of tea with lemon for Doris.

"I like helping people with everything," she said. "And usually, they're very nice." She shrugged and tilted her head. "I mean, it isn't what I want to do forever, but it's something I can do and Joseph says I do a good job."

They chatted non-commitally about Rose's job for a few moments until they'd decided and ordered their lunches. Doris decided she liked the girl, who seemed pleasant and gentle, but she was so distant as if she was still nervous.

"Do you sing all kinds of music, Rose?" she asked, trying to put the girl more at ease with a topic that interested her.

"Oh, anything I can learn, yeah. Well, not opera and stuff, I can never get my head around it. But pretty much anything else."

"We have a music room at the house, you simply will have to see it. I'd like to have you there, you know." She rolled her eyes and smiled and refrained from mentioning that the girl had been expected there the night before. "The house is positively massive and there simply aren't enough people around most days. Alistair inherited it and the first time I saw it, I thought 'Did I really think I wanted a house like this when I was a little girl?' I grew up here in London, you see."

"Oh, that's funny," Rose said with a real, genuine smile. "You know, you don't ever think how you're going to keep up with a huge place, I guess. I've lived in the same flat most of my life, so I wouldn't know what to do with even a place as big as Joshua's flat."

Doris nodded. "Then you'll sympathize with me properly when you see it. I've done a lot of gardening over the years, and most of the house is the way I want it now, but when we first lived there, I felt like a maid creeping around in an old mausoleum. Of course, Joshua helps with the garden, and I can usually get he and John to bring some friends and come move furniture."

"Joshua said you have a great view of the stars."

Doris was intrigued. Rose's expression of awe and wonder at the very mention told her that the girl had yet another characteristic in common with the Time Lord disguised as her nephew. "There's a bench on one of the balconies I put in just for him. He likes to sit out there at night, some times it's impossible to get him to come in."

"I can imagine," Rose agreed. Doris could read on her face that Rose would be on that bench with him for as long as she could keep her eyes open.

Their food arrived and they busied themselves with their meal for a moment, comparing notes on the food they'd ordered and variations they had tried. "Do you cook?" Doris ventured.

"Oh, I would. Don't really have the time or the kitchen to do anything fancy, but I can boil water. Did you teach Joshua how to bake? We were talking about that of all things the other night."

Doris shrugged delicately. "I showed him some things," she said. She had, actually. There wasn't much else you could do with a sleepless alien wandering around your house at half three in the morning except show him the library or show him the kitchen. And he'd already read the whole library. "How ever did you get on the subject?"

"I was thinking about making biscuits for my friend here at work. His birthday's next week and he's always complaining about store-bought ones." Rose looked thoughtful for a second, then frowned. "That reminds me, 'cuz I forgot to ask. When's Joshua's?"

"His birthday?" She had to scramble only briefly, because they had picked an arbitrary date on the calendar and done some quick math with it, based on how old he thought he was. "November 23rd. He'll be fourty-one."

"Got to remember that," Rose said, and pulled out her mobile, probably to add the information just in case.

Doris, however, would be willing to bet she'd never forget it, possibly not even years from now, when the Doctor had gone back into space and time and left all of this behind. As she busied herself with her thoughts and her lunch, Doris could only hope that when he left, he had a small blonde at his side and a reason to live again. In the meantime, he had asked for two years and that was a long time in the human world. The Doctor could change the world in two minutes, so changing his own life and Rose's, with that much time between them, was a very real possibility despite the difficulty presented by that task.

"How are you two getting along now?" Doris ventured, finally, when the meal was done and the plates were cleared away and the small talk started to feel a bit stilted.

Rose's frown didn't bode well. "I haven't talked to him in a couple of days, actually. Not since Tuesday morning. He brought me breakfast." She shook her head. "I've been worried about him, but I didn't want to... you know..."

Doris nodded. She did know. Rose was incredibly tactful and seemed to be... a bit different. By now, most girls would have grilled her and Harry and John and maybe even Alistair to try to find out everything they could about what had happened to him, but Rose seemed to instinctively know that this was the sort of information you only got from the source. It was an uncommonly mature behavior in a woman so young, and even grown ones seemed to forget it a lot. "You might want to do later this evening. I've been out shopping all morning, so I have to get back before Alistair thinks I've run off with his gold card."

Rose grinned. "Is that likely to happen?" she asked, and Doris was positively delighted to hear a little teasing in her voice.

"You never know," she said. "When Joshua was younger, I once left him and Alistair and some enormous boy I hadn't even met properly to do everything while I ran off with a group of girls in a sports car. I think Joshua did the cooking. He's rather good at that, thankfully. Alistair can't, unless there's charcoal involved for some reason."

Rose's expression was amused and curious. "He just seems to know everything," she mused. "Like a genius or something."

"He is, Rose," Doris told her, honestly. "Joshua is a genius." She stopped before she said too much and asked the waiter for the check instead. "But don't tell him I told you, that part of his ego is still going strong."

Rose nodded, her dark eyes sparkling mischief. "Wouldn't want to let it go to his head, I guess," she agreed. Then she straightened and offered to pay the bill.

Doris shook her head and handed over her credit card. "Let's let Alistair pay for this one," she said, trying for girlish conspiracy in her tone. "He owes me for a dinner anyway."

Driving home, Doris decided that Rose Tyler had the kind of unique and sparkling personality that just might be enough to mend even the war-rended Time Lord's wounded soul.


	22. Chapter 21

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We are pleased to announce that Jack has agreed to sign himself over. Oh. When he's dead. Well, that's never going to work. And why is the Doctor smirking at us? Oh, he's added a clause... next Doctor will be played by Rupert Grint?? I don't THINK so. Looks like it's back to the negotiating table. Someone fetch the yummy cake, please.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 21:**

Friday evening came and Joshua regained consciousness on his bathroom floor, absolutely no idea when he had passed out. Something deep inside him rebelled at the idea of time passing without his active awareness, but he shut it away in favor of dragging himself into his shower and trying to regain some semblance of coherence. When he finally left the bathroom, sober and feeling more than a little sick at the idea, he almost wished he hadn't.

His flat was a wreck, and he had a headache. He would have tried to treat it with more of the same, but that was a bit of a problem at the moment. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd dismantled the book case, or what he'd been looking for, but there was a volume of poetry by Robert Burns open on the coffee table, so he could guess.

This had to stop, it really, really did. Not just because of Rose, though things associated with her did take up more than three quarters of the list of very good reasons that he had, at some point on what had probably been Wednesday afternoon, scrawled in permanent magic marker on the mirror in his bedroom. It worried him that he wasn't exactly aware of when and why he'd done that, because it meant he was escalating, and escalating meant that the problem was now getting out of his control.

He had thought, when he'd started drinking, that he wanted to lose control, to lose the pain. Now that he was achieving that, he feared that that would cause him to lose Rose more than he feared the responsibility and guilt that sobriety presented.

Joshua still wanted to be drunk, sure, drunk enough that he couldn't remember anything much and could sleep without dreaming of the things he didn't want to remember and wasn't able to remember. But he definitely didn't want to be doing things that didn't make any sense to him later, especially if they didn't manage to make an impact in his memory, either.

The door buzzer sounded and he knew, just knew, that it was Rose. He opened the door because he couldn't see any way around it, and let her in without looking into her face so he didn't have to see her worried frown or sorrowful eyes. He knew she had to be disappointed in him, probably terribly so, but he didn't dare look at her to confirm it.

"Don't mind the mess," he said. "I've been redecorating."

"S'that what you call it?" she asked, and stepped over to the sofa where she silently replaced the cushions. "What were you looking for?"

"Couldn't tell you, this time," he admitted softly.

She came up to him and he just stood there and hung his head. Finally, she reached out and put a hand on his cheek. "Are you all right?" she asked, softly.

He looked up and blinked at her, astonished. Wasn't she furious? Why wasn't she furious? "I... I will be, I think. Maybe?"

"I'm so sorry," she told him, and wrapped her arms around him.

His came up around her automatically, holding her closer than anyone as useless as he'd been for the last three days had any right to do. "What for?" he wanted to know.

"For whatever hurts you. For the fact that it keeps hurting you. I'm sorry, and I wish I could make it better."

"That's my job," he said, no idea why, it just came out.

"What is?" she asked.

"Being sorry," he said, because he didn't want to go into anything about making things better by making them almost infinitely worse first. That might be what he was doing here, too, and that really needed to stop.

He needed a drink and the only alcohol left in the flat was in his flask in his pocket. "Wanna go down the pub with me? I promise I'll pretend to be a human being."

"A human being what?" she punned.

"Being less drunk than I was yesterday, anyway."

"That'll do then, yeah. But I'm hungry. Have you eaten?"

More than likely not, and if he had, it was probably grape jam from the bottle or something made with bananas and his third blender. The kitchen was probably utterly destroyed. It was always the first to go when he'd been drinking particularly heavily. "Nah, let's go get something," he said.

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed and took his hand. Just like that, and he felt almost alive again.

"Hold up," he said and leaned over to pick up a piece of paper from his notebook, where it was lying in the middle of a large pile comprised of six volumes of Shakespeare and a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. He looked at it with some surprise and then handed it to Rose. "'A picture is worth a thousand words,'" he quoted.

She blinked rapidly at the delicate pencil drawings of her own face. Then she looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Yeah, I guess it is," she said softly.

Of course, the words might have said a bit, too, since the caption underneath the lot of them read, in letters drawn with every bit as much care as the half-dozen angles of her face, "My Rose".

* * *

Rose sat at his table with him, mostly just holding his hand and chattering away about her job. He'd ordered a large whiskey for himself and shocked Jenny nearly speechless by managing to stick to just that. Though, to give the girl credit, she did try to hide her dismay. Rose just ordered a fizzy drink and Jenny brought it along at the same time as his whiskey.

Rose was just telling him about a customer who'd come in with a dog in a purse, claiming the unfortunate animal was an accessory, not a pet, when the door to the pub slammed open and the whole place fell, briefly, quiet. Rose stopped smiling, stopped talking, and just sat there and looked at the pale apparition in the doorway. Jenny immediately began pouring drinks at the bar and the pub went back to whatever it was they were doing. "What's the date?" Rose asked, sounding horrified.

He told her, and she hung her head. "I forgot," she said, and she sounded absolutely crushed. Then, she got up. "I'll be right back," she promised, and made her way over to her mum at the bar.

He put his drink down and pushed it away. Mickey came over and took Rose's seat, looking quite a lot like he didn't want to be caught sitting there. "What?" Joshua asked, softly.

"Just... look after her, all right?" Mickey said.

"I will," Joshua assured the younger man, unable to find the words to say that she took care of him, too.

Mickey nodded. "Good. She's going to need it, they both might." Joshua watched him curiously, as he went back to the bar the long way so that Rose wouldn't spot him. It was unusual that Mickey would acknowledge Joshua's place in Rose's life, and for him to make such an effort just to tell him something that had become fundamental to his existence puzzled the older man. Joshua settled back to wait, but he didn't have to wait long. Rose came back to the table and sat silently, just looking at the woman at the bar, and clutching his hand like a lifeline.

Her eyes were wide and blank as she watched her mother self-destruct. His personal horror in the whole scenario was the fact that he could easily recognize that what Jackie Tyler was doing right this moment and what he did so very often were the same thing. Seeing Jackie like this was killing Rose, though, he could see it quite clearly as little by little, the lights in her eyes slowly went out. How long before his behavior also doused Rose's brilliance? How could he live with himself once he had?

He ordered a second whiskey and nursed it quietly for the rest of the evening, the absolute minimum he required to function properly. Rose was going to need help to get through this evening, and he needed to be here for her, regardless of the cost.

She didn't deserve this. Not Jackie, and not him, either.

"Why's she doing this?" he asked, after it became obvious that Jackie Tyler had a pretty good chance of out drinking even his regular nights tonight.

"It's their anniversary," she said blankly.

"What?"

"My parents. My dad died when I was a baby. She's fine, most of the time, but anniversaries, his birthday, my birthday, the anniversary of the day he died, she always falls apart like this. And I forgot, I didn't realize..."

"You're not responsible for this," he told her firmly. He tried not imagine what her birthdays must have been her entire life, knowing he didn't have the time to properly analyze how she could still be so giving when even the day marked on the calendar for her was filled with someone else's sorrow. "You can't be expected to control what other people do."

She looked at him and nodded, but it was obvious to him that she didn't believe him. She felt things too deeply to not want to help, her mother, Mickey, any of her friends, even a war-torn virtual stranger who had tried his damnedest to avoid her.

He didn't deserve to be in the same room with her, never mind to have her small hand clenched tight in his, relying on him to give her courage.

As the pub emptied, it became clear that someone was going to have to haul Jackie home. And Rose usually did this alone. But not tonight. He had made his choice to help her, to protect her. He would do everything in his power to banish that shattered pain in her lovely face.

Everything.

Even sober up himself.

"C'mon, Jackie Tyler," he said, approaching the weeping woman who had glued herself to the bar, "you're done."

"Am not," she mumbled. "Can still see."

He snorted. "Here," he said, and tugged his flask from his pocket. "You can have that if you'll come on now while you can still walk."

* * *

With that bit of bribery, he and Rose got Jackie home to her flat. While Rose poured her into bed, Joshua went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. To his disgust, he found only tea bags. He'd have to see about fixing that later, he decided, and fetched two clean mugs from the side board.

The tea was ready when Rose returned and he noticed the look of dazed horror was still on her face as she took the offered mug. "You need sleep," he said, firmly.

She nodded. "I hate this," she said.

"I'm sorry," he told her, and took her free hand. They sat together in silence while they drank their tea, and when he cleared away their mugs, she followed him.

He hugged her because she looked like she really needed it. She melted into his embrace, curling against his chest and clutching at the leather convulsively. He realized that she was crying, so he picked her up and carried her into the room he knew must be her bedroom. He sat on her bed with her in his lap, rocking her gently, murmuring soothing nonsense until the tears finally stopped.

"Sorry," she whispered, looking up at him through huge, watery eyes.

He shushed her with one finger on her lips, then kissed her forehead. "It's fine, Rose. You don't need to apologize," he reassured her and set her gently onto her bed. "It's time for you to sleep and me to leave."

"Stay," she said, pleaded really. "Please, Joshua, I don't want to be alone."

He studied her face and checked his own emotions. She was serious, she needed him. Just for comfort though, he decided silently. He could hold her if that was what she needed. "All right," he agreed. "Just to make sure you get some sleep." He was going to have to sit up all night, but he was fine with that, didn't dare risk waking her with his nightmares.

She left the room to change into her night things, so he pulled off the leather jacket, his jumper and - what the hell, why not? - his under shirt as well. Toeing off his boots and socks, he settled down tailor-fashion on the end of the bed to wait for her.

She returned after a few minutes, running a comb through her long curls and wearing shorts and a t-shirt. "You gonna be ok in those?" she asked.

"I've slept in mud holes, Rose, with fifty pounds of gear on my back. I'll be fine." Joshua shook his head. The memories were coming back; it wasn't fair, but he needed to be here because she was so fragile right now. He expected her to ask about that at any moment, but she just nodded and sat down next to him, tucking her legs up beside her and curling into his side. The only possible explanation for that was exhaustion. No one ever understood that he didn't want to talk about it.

As if she read his mind, she murmured, "No wonder you never want to think about stuff."

Any day now, he was going to fall in love with her. It was inevitable. He would say or do something, she would be her usual supportive and impossibly understanding self, and he would topple right over the edge and never land.

If only the thought wasn't as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

"Which side do you want?" she asked with a shy smile, her eyes downcast.

He shook his head. "Rose Tyler, you are fantastic."

She blushed charmingly and elbowed him lightly. He just grinned and rolled back, taking the side of the bed closer to the wall. If her mother wandered in early tomorrow, she'd have to go over Rose to kill him.

She read his mind again, he supposed, because she giggled at him, then tugged at the duvet until she could pull it up over them. He settled back into the pillows, inhaling the scent that was all Rose's shampoo and Rose's natural, sweet fragrance. She lay stiffly next to him, so he put a hand on her shoulder to let her know it was all right. The gesture was all it took. Rose rolled over and he tucked her head into his chest, rubbing soothing circles in her back.

She tilted her head, then moved to sit up. "What...?" she asked, looking confused and yawning wide at the same time.

He grinned. "Observant, you are," he teased gently, since it had taken her this long to notice the doubled heartbeat, or at least to comment if she'd noticed earlier. "I'll explain tomorrow. Go to sleep."

He was going to fall in love with her, but it hadn't happened yet. For some other undefined reason, he found himself humming an old love song to her until she dropped off.

Right.


	23. Chapter 22

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has proposed the idea for an episode where everyone does exactly as he tells them to do, immediately, without arguing, and without screwing up, Jack doesn't flirt with anyone, and no one tries to kiss either of them. (He's allowed that Rose won't be there, although he seems to be a little interested in that old crucifixion idea of Jessa's.) Jack is trying to explain to him that this would be very boring. He doesn't seem to get it. We're not going to get this paper signed this week, are we?**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 22:**

When Joshua woke the next morning, it was to several unlikely sensations at once. The first was waking at all, as he'd had no intention of sleeping. The second, the most obvious, was contentment. There was a comforting weight across his chest and against his hip. Warm, pink tinged sunlight played along his face. He opened his eyes slowly, savoring the feeling, cherishing it as the rare gift it was. Rose slept peacefully in his embrace, and he smiled down at her.

The realization that he hadn't woke screaming or at least crying for the first time in his recent memory made him tighten his hold on her soft form. She had kept the nightmares at bay, just by being there.

He had more than a little bit of a headache, but that wasn't the most uncomfortable sensation. Rather, it took his mind off the unpleasant tightness of his jeans well enough and he actually relished the dull throb in his head to distract him from the dull throb elsewhere. The downside of having an extraordinarily healthy cardiovascular system, he supposed, with wry humor.

He contemplated the girl at his side and decided it would hardly be fair to ease her from sleep with kisses, regardless of how appealing the notion was at the moment. The knowledge that he was emotionally unequipped to deal with the consequences of such a delightful idea only steeled his resolution from last night. He threaded long fingers through her golden curls spilling across his bare chest and otherwise remained still and silent.

When he felt her lips brush his bare skin, desire shot through him like being struck by lightning. She sighed sweetly and the brush of warm air was every bit as erotic as the brush of her lips. He caught her hand as it traced the line of his sternum and lifted it to his lips.

She looked up at him blearily, a small, winsome smile lifting her full lips at the corners. "Thought I was dreaming," she murmured apologetically.

"Really? What were you dreaming about?"

Her eyes said "duh" and he chuckled lightly at his own ignorance. "And here's me thinking it wasn't playing fair to kiss you awake."

She grinned, her tongue poking through her teeth, then tilted her head back down and kissed his chest again. "What's with the echo?" she mumbled, but didn't let up on the tiny, sweet, burning kisses that drew trails of fire across his skin.

"A genetic anomaly. I have two hearts. Birth defect, you could say, except, since they both work perfectly well, it's more an asset." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then raised her hair so he could brush his fingers along the back of her neck.

She grinned - he could feel that quite clearly. "Anything else you got two of?" she teased. Then her fingernails scraped lightly across his nipple, eliciting a gasp.

He shook his head. "Cheeky," he murmured.

She tipped her head back to look at him, a blatant invitation in her eyes. He brought his free hand up to cup her face, letting his thumb brush lightly across her lips.

"You're taking this rather calmly," he said with some surprise and more than a bit of thankful awe.

"Well, it's still just you, innit?" She nuzzled into his neck. "Doesn't mean you're an alien from outer space or something, does it?"

He froze. For some reason he neither understood nor could explain, every nerve ending, every muscle, every fiber of his being clenched. "What if it did?"

She blinked up at him, her eyes hooded. "Well, you'd have to answer the other question," she murmured thoughtfully, shrugged, and went back to tracing her lips along the place where his neck and shoulder met.

Relief, sweet, beautiful relief swept through him and he laughed out loud. He didn't even stop to think, just wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over onto her back, pressing his body into hers. He'd started out, he believed, to make it just a hug, but the moment his hips brushed hers, it changed into something else, something burning and longing and aching. "I'm as human as I'm going to get," he assured her. His hips ground into hers, letting her feel the answer to her other question. He lowered his mouth to hers, captured her parted lips, swallowing her gasp of surprise.

She wrapped her legs around him and arched sweetly beneath him. He moaned into her mouth, thrust his tongue inside and plundered the treasure of her kiss. They writhed together in wordless hunger, melting into each other, lost in the thunder and the sensation.

Rose's hand reached between them, resting on the button of his jeans. The small gesture broke the spell, and he pulled away from her slowly, a little better prepared than he had been that night - had it only been a week ago? Every single particle of his being was begging him to continue, to bury himself in her heat, to lose himself to the fire in her eyes and in her flesh. There was that nearly uncontrollable urge to claim her like this, to place an indefinable mark across her body and her heart that would let everyone know that she was his and whatever was left of him belonged to her. But he fought it off and pushed it back with a determination he thought he'd long since lost.

Calmly, Joshua placed his hands over hers. "No," he reminded her.

The sudden pain in her expression almost changed his mind. "Don't you..."

"Yes," he told her, leaning over to whisper it, right into the shell of her ear. He detached himself from her gently, lowered himself on trembling arms to her side. "But this is definitely not the place for it."

She looked around the room and noted with apparent surprise that they were lying in her bed. She blushed beautifully and nodded. "You got a point there," she conceded. Then, still bashful, she peeked up at him through her eyelashes, worrying her lip with her teeth.

He groaned softly and pulled back further still, resisting the intense urge to nibble on that lip for her. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, and he didn't just mean her lovely face or tempting form. Shaking his head, he added, "You deserve better."

She frowned at him, now. "But I want you."

He grinned. "Fantastic," he offered and took her hands. "I have to talk to Harry and, well, everyone about this, but..." He sighed, wondering how he could possibly confess something like this. Best to come out and say it. "I'm going to get straight, Rose. Sober up and stay that way. For you."

"Not for me," she whispered, tears standing unshed in her marvelous eyes. "It'll never work that way. You have to do it for you."

"There's not enough of me left to do it for, Rose," Joshua replied, the honesty floating from his lips before he could stop it. "I fell apart a while back and the bits are scattered through space and time. For a long time, I didn't much feel like living with that."

"Then do it for the world," she said. "For what you can do, for what you lost, in their name or whatever. People mess up, Joshua. I mess up. You have to believe in something bigger, something you won't lose your faith in."

"I could never lose my faith in you," he declared, the corners of his eyes prickling at the thought.

"Please, Joshua. You…can't put it on me. There must be something else."

"God?" he offered, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He normally would feel quite derisive of this topic but for some reason, talking it over with her was charming.

"If that's your thing," she said with a shrug. "I meant like truth, or justice, or peace, or..."

"Chocolate," he said, to draw her away from the seriousness in her eyes, to make that smile appear again so he could cherish it for safekeeping. "I believe in chocolate."

She laughed merrily and cuddled up to him. "Fine," she said, sounding stern and teasing at the same time. "You sober up for chocolate."

"All right." He kissed the end of her nose. "A really fancy French mousse with creme. But you'll have to go with me, when I get out."

She wrinkled her nose. "Where are you gonna go, then?"

He sighed. "Rehab," he admitted glumly. There was really nothing else he could say about it.

Sitting on the sofa in her flat, waiting for her to shower and change, he had the idea that maybe getting off the alcohol wouldn't be as impossible as it had once seemed. If he could find the will to step away from the enticement of Rose Tyler offering herself to him, twice, he could probably walk away from anything.

* * *

Jackie Tyler woke to the sensation of an entire chorus playing anvils on the insides of her skull. She groaned and rolled over, trying to remember what the hell had happened.

Oh. Yesterday. Well, never mind about that now. She needed paracetemol, a good cup of tea, and to find out where the hell Rose was. She seemed to remember Rose had been here last night, but it was all vague and swimming in and out of her recollection. Always did, on these days, but never mind.

She staggered to her feet and realized she was still wearing yesterday's clothes. She'd get changed after she had pain killers. She still pulled a dressing gown on, and stumbled slowly through the door.

_That man_ was sitting on her sofa, but right now, she couldn't really give a damn. "What the hell're you doing here?" she demanded gruffly, anyway, just so he wouldn't get the idea that he was welcome or anything.

"Good morning to you, too," he said, and honestly, he looked a bit like she felt. "I made tea. It'll help."

"You'd know," she answered crossly.

"I would," he agreed, entirely too calm with the situation. "Rose's in the loo, she'll be out in a mo."

She really should tell him to keep his filthy mitts off her daughter, but that would take energy. She went on into the kitchen, sniffed suspiciously at the tea, and poured a mug full. Her first sip opened her eyes a bit, and wouldn't you know it, the pervert made a good cuppa.

Rose came wandering in, looking cheerful, but refusing to meet Jackie's eye. Not that Jackie tried. She really hated these mornings, and it almost wasn't worth the forgetfulness, because she had to endure the guilt the next day. When Rose was little, she used to take her shopping on these days and buy her something she wanted, but that was then, and Rose had generally avoided her on these days ever since she was about thirteen.

"I'm going with Joshua," she said. "We're going up to his Aunt and Uncle's house for the day. I probably won't be home 'til tomorrow."

Jackie snorted, more out of habit than the belief that she had any right to be scornful today. "Oh, brilliant. Himself's not driving is he?"

"No, I'm not," said himself from behind her. "But that's 'cuz my car's still in dock. I'd never risk Rose the way you're implying."

"You listen to me, Mister..." she began hotly, the fact that she believed him irking her more than the cold tone he had assumed at her insinuation.

"Doctor," he corrected. Sounded like he did it automatically.

"What?" Jackie asked.

"It's Doctor Stewart, or Major Stewart, not Mr. Stewart." He came round so she could see him clearly and grinned at her. "You_ can_ call me Joshua." He shrugged. "Or whatever really rude name you're thinking right now, I'd probably answer to that from you, Jackie Tyler."

Rose giggled and Jackie started in surprise. Her daughter leaned into the old man and smiled up at him, a genuinely happy smile. On today of all days. Normally, Rose wouldn't smile properly for nearly a week after one of Jackie's bad days. Jackie shook her head. "Have a good time, stay out of trouble, be safe," she muttered. "Behave yourself, Rose."

"I will," she said and rolled her eyes. "You too, though, yeah?"

"I'm gonna call Mo. Lay in some groceries or something."

Rose nodded, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Love you," she said softly.

Jackie sat there, startled and confused, until she heard the front door close. Rose went out of her way not to even speak to her on these days, usually. She shook her head. He may have gotten her out of the hot water she'd gotten herself into with her daughter today, but really, these May December romances almost never worked out. Still... that would be something to tell Mo, even if the man was older than Jackie herself. _Her_ daughter, dating a _doctor_!


	24. Chapter 23

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has dissolved all the legal paper work by reversing the polarity of the neutron flow. Jack has informed him that this is neither logical nor possible, but the Doctor is pointing at the pile of goo and snickering. And we are heading out to Kinko's. This is going to take FOREVER at this rate.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons

* * *

**Chapter 23:**

John was surprised when Rose answered the door to Joshua's flat, and even more surprised to find Harry sitting on the sofa looking baffled. "I take it the Saturday run is off?" he called, when Rose gestured him toward the kitchen.

Joshua's voice could be heard, complaining softly about something, and then he stuck his head back into the living room, grinning. "Well, we can try to get it in, if you don't mind Uncle Alistair laughing at you." He reached for a small towel, wiped his hands, and came back out into the living room, now looking quite calm but very somber. "I need to discuss something, and I feel like it'll be easier to get everyone in at once. I've phoned, he knows we're coming, and Aunt Doris promised to make you some of those boring biscuits you like."

Oooh, shortbread. John smiled, not that anyone could much tell. "All right. And for this, I suppose I have to drive?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Harry said. "I've not got the room."

John and Joshua looked at each other and shook their heads. Harry was maybe five foot nine, his little car was fine for him. "Definitely not," they said together, John shifting his broad shoulders uncomfortably just at the thought.

Rose laughed a pretty laugh, mumbled something about Joshua's dislike for Cooper Minis, and asked Joshua brightly how the blender was coming. He rolled his eyes. "I've gone off blenders. They are obviously a fiendish alien torture device, designed to lie in wait until they decide to attack."

John looked at Harry, who shrugged back. Joshua had absolutely no idea how plausible that was for him. Did he? John made a mental note to come by and make sure it wasn't true, just in case.

Rose had Joshua's hand and was patting it sympathetically, if a bit teasingly. Joshua drew her to his side and kissed the top of her head while she leaned into him. If it weren't so unique as to be brilliant, the completely enamored expression on the Time Lord's face would be very, very funny.

"No sense sitting around wasting daylight," Harry said cheerfully. "His majesty likes to be in bed by nine."

Harry was exaggerating, but not by much. "Lunch is on Joshua," John said firmly.

It was only over lunch that John realized it. Joshua was drinking a Coke, just like Rose, and hadn't once dipped into those bottomless pockets to augment it. Benton followed Harry to the loo, never mind that they looked like a couple of school girls doing that.

"Is he sober?" John demanded.

"Yes. Mind, that might be because he drank every drop in his flat last week, but still. It's a good sign isn't it?"

"Then why am I getting the feeling of oncoming disaster?" John wondered.

"Because he's the Doctor," Harry said. "There's always a disaster. It just hasn't found him yet."

John couldn't have argued with that if he tried.

* * *

Aunt Doris was cheerful as she greeted them at the door, though Uncle Alistair was looking exceptionally grim. Joshua introduced Rose properly to his Aunt and Uncle, and suddenly realized, on seeing the expression that would be considered off-putting by anyone who didn't know his Uncle, how incredibly nervous she must be. She'd come anyway, to support him, not for any proper occasion, just because he needed her. He hadn't even had to ask, she'd just asked him when _they_ were going to tell his family. His hearts swelled in his chest and he kept hold of her hand, except when Aunt Doris was hugging one of them.

Having made up his mind, and determined he was going to do this, Joshua decided to get it out of the way first thing, and then no one would have to spend the day worrying about what was to be said or what reactions would be. He straightened up to military attention, but kept his grip on Rose, and suggested the sitting room.

They all went there and took seats, Joshua on the very edge of the sofa, with Rose right beside him, still holding his hand. He'd supported her last night, she was supporting him now. He was starting to suspect this was becoming almost like a normal give and take relationship.

If only the thought wasn't as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

"I know you've all been planning an intervention of some sort," Joshua began, glancing into each face briefly before looking back at his hands. "Can't blame you, I really can't. My behavior's gotten beyond bad and it's heading for out of control."

"Joshua," Aunt Doris tried to interrupt.

He stilled her with a gesture. "No, seriously, I know you've all been looking out for me, and I'm grateful, because I couldn't look out for myself. Or maybe that's wouldn't. Anyway. I've been talking to Rose, and I've come to a decision, and I'm going to get myself fixed before you have to. You've had to bail me out of jail, what, six times, Uncle Alistair?"

"Seven," his uncle answered. "But I don't count the one incident against you. Anyone would have done that."

Joshua nodded. Anyone would have, but no one did, and right now, he was almost grateful, since the result of that incident had just laid a comforting hand on his knee.

"Anyway, I need to get sober and stay that way. And to do that, I think I have to be somewhere where I can't get into alcohol. Which means, as Harry suggested, rehab."

"I wasn't serious," Harry said.

"I am, though," Joshua said. "I've watched you watch me, Dr. Sullivan, when you think I'm not paying attention. I can still read what you don't say. You think I'm killing meself, and you're probably right. It's got to stop. I... I don't want to hurt anyone else, not any of you. You're all important to me, and I need to stop thinking about only myself and think about what's important to you. Which means I need to get a clear head and a sense of responsibility. I think I had one once, and I think I need that back."

No one said anything, so Joshua finally turned to Harry. "Well, will it work?"

"I... I'll have to check some things. Limiting your exposure should help in the short term, but Joshua, you have a serious addiction, not just a bad habit. You're going to have to find other interests, other things to concentrate on. Most rehab programs only last four to six weeks and after that, you're the one with the primary responsibility for the success or failure of your recovery. In most people, alcoholism is a disease, and a very serious one. I'm not as certain about that where you're concerned, because your reactions have always been unique." He sighed. "It's worth a try, I'd say, but I want to monitor you for adverse reactions."

"Never had any before, except a headache I can't get rid of." He shrugged.

"Let me look some things up, all right?"

"Yeah, all right. Thanks."

"You've always been an adrenaline junky," John put in, then. "I think I might have some suggestions, and I do own a gym."

Joshua smiled at that thought, realizing he should have considered that weeks, maybe months ago. "Good point," he agreed. He looked at his aunt and she just smiled and nodded encouragingly. Finally he turned to his uncle, wondering what the older man would say to him about this idea. He needed his uncle's support and Rose's if this was going to work. Everyone else was reasonably negotiable, but these two were imperative.

The Brigadier cleared his throat. "I'll make some calls," he said promptly. Then, he smiled. "I'm very proud of you, son," he added.

Joshua grinned, feeling the words and the comfort of them right down to the soles of his feet. No one else existed who could approve or disapprove of him any more. The Brigadier's deep personal courage and stern sense of duty were really the only moral compasses Joshua had left, except for the small voice inside him that insisted that everyone deserved a chance to do the right thing.

Well, this was his chance. Out of the corner of his eye, Joshua saw Rose beam at his Uncle's words, probably well aware of how they made him feel. He looked down at Rose, and she turned that smile on him, all his hopes for a real future caught up in the dark splendor of her eyes. His last chance, and he was going to take it, like her hand, and run with it.

Doris stood then, abruptly taking charge. "John, why don't you make us some tea, you know where everything is. Joshua, take Rose and show her the music room, I'm sure she'd love to see it, and we can give her a proper tour in a little while. Harry, you can help John, make sure the tea's not strong enough to walk on its own this time." She smiled fondly at John who shrugged sheepishly. Making tea for a sleep-deprived Brigadier and his staff was different than making tea at home, but John never seemed to have grasped that concept.

Joshua smiled and led Rose off, the boys made their way to the kitchen, and Doris went to sit by her husband. He had abruptly crumpled in his chair the second he no longer had to put on a stern front, looking confused and more than a bit worried. "What is it?" she asked gently.

"I'm not sure?" he said. It was a question, not a statement, so she brushed his cheek encouragingly. He tilted his head into her hand and smiled up at her. "I knew this was going to be difficult, awkward, uncomfortable. But I didn't realize..."

"You said exactly the right thing, though."

"Yes, but I meant it." Alistair sighed. "I'm going to need therapy when this is over," he said and rubbed his forehead as if he felt a headache coming on. "I need to make these calls, look after my nephew. It's just bothering me a bit that I'm starting to think of an ancient man who used to insult me - some times quite rightly - as a young man who I want to look after."

Doris chuckled and laid her head on her shoulder. "How do you think I feel?" she asked. "I used to have a normal life, you know, and now I have given relationship advice to your nine hundred year old alien nephew."

Alistair smiled, a smile he reserved just for her, a look of deep and tender affection, somewhat boyish, reminding her so of the young man she fell in love with all those years ago, the man she had fallen in love with every day since. Time had changed him, oh so often, and this would change him, too, this wholly new relationship with his oldest friend. She was happy to be there with him and share in the changing together. It might not be the textbook definition of growing old together, not really. It was better than that, and she was content with it.

* * *

Rose gasped at the ornate and beautiful music room. It had been painted a sort of off-red with a gold wash over everything, had gilded moulding and the same burnished oak hardwood flooring as the rest of the house she had seen. All in all, it was exquisite and the instruments just made it more perfect somehow.

"And you grew up here?" she asked, slightly in awe.

"Nah... well, mostly not. I was grown before Uncle Alistair inherited the place. Mostly, I lived in a little house near HQ when I was a kid. Signed up maself when I was your age, lived on bases most of the time 'til I retired."

"Army?" she ventured, chewing at her lip, hoping it wasn't asking too much.

Joshua shook his head, but he seemed willing to talk about it, so she sat down on the upholstered confection of a love seat and watched him pace. She did wonder if he knew how gracefully he moved, but she pushed that away to concentrate on what he was saying, since he so rarely talked about it.

"It's called UNIT. Used to stand for United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, and it used to be half-a-dozen little ramshackle, knocked together divisions in the more civilized places and run out of Switzerland. Now, it stands for the Unified Intelligence Taskforce and it's properly funded and has branches all over the world."

"Intelligence though?" she asked. "Like spying?"

He chuckled. "Not really, though there's been a bit of that. I used to fancy myself something James Bondish when I was young. Daft, though, right? Can you imagine me in a tux?"

'Guh,' she thought, and raised her hand to her mouth, desperate to keep her attention focused. Dammit, did he have to put that idea into her head? Peeling him out of... stop it. "So what did you do, then?"

"Me specifically? Lots of stuff. Problem with everyone knowing you're clever. And I'm dead clever, me, so I ended up in some of the strangest situations. Can't talk about a lot of it, really."

"And your uncle's retired from there, too?"

Joshua snorted, then sat down at the piano bench, straddling it and looking at her intently. "Generals don't really retire. Uncle Alistair likes to claim he's decided to fade away but its funny; everyone in the whole operation's got him on speed dial. They still listen to him, and he still listens to me and John and Harry." Joshua shrugged. "Not that I've been much good to him lately," he added grimly.

"Well, but you're changing that now." She stood up and walked over to him, wishing she could just take all that pain and make it vanish. "You're getting help and that's gonna help everyone." She smiled as he reached up for her, leaned into his embrace, her hands draping around his neck, one thumb playing with the short hair it found at the nape. "I don't think I ever said thank you, did I?"

"What for?" he wanted to know.

"For this. For wanting to do this. For... for caring about me and your family enough to give us this. It means the world to me, you know."

He leaned his head against her shoulder, smiling softly. "I'd give you the world if I could, precious girl. All the worlds out there, even, all for you, Rose Tyler."

The moment was getting very deep, very risky. She was shaking, practically, from nerves, from longing, from the sudden desire to cry and demand to know why he thought she, an ordinary London shop-girl, was so important. But she wanted to be happy with him, make him happy, especially now. He would be leaving soon, maybe very soon, and she didn't know how long it would be 'til he saw her again. She wanted him to have her smile and her laughter to keep him company while he was gone.

She also wanted to kiss him, so she did. Not too much, they were in his uncle's house in a relatively public area and she didn't want to be rude. Still, she put her heart into the kiss, to let him know that she loved him, would always love him, even if now wasn't the time to tell him.

When he pulled away, she gave him a bright and sunny smile. "Play me something," she asked, since he was good and the piano was right there.

He studied her face, then nodded and shuffled himself on the bench correctly. "Right, Rose Tyler, what would you like?"

"Oh, anything," she said.

Joshua grinned.


	25. Chapter 24

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. For some reason, Jack has taken the paperwork up to the roof. Maybe he'll sign it up there? He appears to have some barbecue sauce and... Oh, great, he's just fed the paperwork to an extinct pterodactyl. And there goes the Doctor, laughing and feeding it chocolate. Of course you realize this means war.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons

* * *

Chapter 24:

Joshua moved over on the piano bench a bit, gesturing Rose to sit beside him. His long, elegant fingers caressed the keys, a simple chromatic run up the scale. He stopped at the b flat, played with it a second. "Huh, it's sticking a bit. Have to remember that."

She smiled. "Oh, c'mon, what do you know, then?"

He shot her that daft grin. "S'more of a question of what I don't know," he said. He played a few whimsical chords of Hadyn, shifted into a familiar piece she thought was Bach, transposed a couple of scales and played a bit of Beethoven's Fifth. Then, to her delight and amusement, he started a very ornate version of 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.' "That's Mozart," he said.

She grinned. "Something newer?" she asked. If she wasn't mistaken, the next tune was one she'd heard on the radio for the first time on the way up here. "Something older?"

He shook his head, but the grin stayed in place. He seemed to be having a good time. "Picky, much?" he said and played some variation of something she would swear was Elvis.

She rolled her eyes. "Something I can sing to, maybe?" she said.

"Oh." He stopped and thought for a moment. Then, he folded his hands together, stretched them, cracked his knuckles. She winced while that grin she loved so much just got broader. "Right then, something for the lady." He picked at the notes for a moment, and then nodded, looking quite a bit triumphant.

Three bars in, the vaguely familiar notes suddenly resolved themselves into a song she recognized. She couldn't help it, though, when she laughed out loud. "Disney?" she asked gleefully. "Seriously, Joshua, I'd've never picked you for a Disney fan."

"Hey," he protested mildly, fingers never faltering, "I've had a lot of time on me hands."

"Yeah, but 'The Little Mermaid'?" She giggled, couldn't help it, as he shot her a bashful, beautiful smile. "Honestly, 'The Little Mermaid', you are _so_ never living this down."

"Could be worse," he said ruefully, "could be 'Heidi'."

She laughed again and leaned into him, humming lightly. "I dunno," she teased, and fingered the sleeve of his leather jacket.

"No, really, s'a good story. Well, a better story, with a happy ending. It didn't have one in the book, it was so sad." He took his hands from the keys and turned to her. "Life's hard enough without even the fantasy being sad. I don't think love stories would even be popular after all this time if they all worked out like that one did."

She nodded, wondering if he'd always been such an accidental romantic, or if it was something that happened as he got older. She felt a sudden pang at the knowledge that he'd had years of his life behind him and all the things she was just beginning to experience had become mundane for him. She would never get to witness his excitement when he got his driving license or his first legal drink. She could not comfort his sorrow when he first saw someone die, as it was painfully apparant he must have done. It wasn't that she regretted choosing him, it was just that she was sorry she'd never get to see it, and sad that he'd had to go through so much all alone. "I know," was all she said, instead. Then she forced another grin. "Go on, play it, I'll try to keep up."

He touched her face with one hand, then turned back to the keys and started to play. Rose shook her head with a fond smile and, nothing else for it, sang along to "Kiss the Girl."

* * *

If anyone had been in the back garden that afternoon, if anyone had been competent to hear it and understand, they probably would have been astonished and amused to realize that the flower-bedecked blue box spent quite a bit of time that day humming Disney theme songs.

* * *

Doris swept into the music room bearing an elegant tea-tray while Joshua was explaining the story of Hans Christian Anderson's crush on a ballerina and how it led to him writing The Little Mermaid. Throughout the tale, his fingers swept whimsically across the keyboard. Rose listened, occasionally asking questions, mostly just shaking her head at the overall sadness of the classic fairy tale.

The remainder of the pack followed closely on his Aunt's heels. After serving her guests, Doris settled back and watched them all with fond smiles. Joshua knew she was never so happy as when she had people around her, whether it was large parties or a close group of well-loved friends. Or just those winter evenings when she and Uncle Alistair would sit in front of the fire in the library, forgetting the world existed.

He smiled at Rose and wondered how she'd look in winter, cheeks pink and chilly from a day in the snow, a warm cup of cocoa in her hands. He decided that, winter to come or years from now, she would always be beautiful. She looked up at him, as if she could read his thoughts, and laid her head on his shoulder. It felt like she was inviting him to wait and see. He looked forward to it.

When Rose had finished her tea and Joshua had snagged all the biscuits he felt like stealing at the moment, Aunt Doris stood and smiled fondly at Rose. "Up for a tour? The boys can stay here and amuse themselves, though I must insist on at least one male escort." Her sharp gaze fell tellingly on Joshua. He stood and executed a graceful bow before extending an arm to each lady. Rose giggled and stood to loop her arm through his, grinning when he trapped it and her against his side. His Aunt took the proffered support with amused dignity, and the trio swept of, leaving three bemused men in their wake.

After introducing Rose to a house she hoped the girl would become familiar to, Doris left them on the balcony to watch the soon-coming sunset as she went to get dinner out of the oven. Rose had offered to help, but Doris wouldn't hear of it, knowing the two had far too little time before they must be parted, albeit temporarily.

* * *

"I want to talk to the Doctor," Harry said, the instant they heard the balcony door close and knew for sure Joshua and Rose were out of earshot. "This is dangerous."

"I don't think the Doctor would approve," said Lethbridge-Stewart, after thinking about it for several long minutes. He held up a hand when Harry moved to protest. "Hear me out. I would very much like to talk to the Doctor myself, right about now, but I think he would say that you should be able to figure it out."

"Especially if you have time to figure out about walls," said John with a snort.

"Do you mind?" Harry complained, his cheeks going pink.

It was rather lucky for John that Doris hadn't gotten back yet. The Brigadier still shot him an annoyed glance before shaking his head. "I'll leave it to you, Dr. Sullivan, but you need to recall that we are meant to use the code for an emergency that _requires_ the Doctor."

"I should think his own health..."

"His health has rarely been jeopardized by anything he has done, and I don't think I need to remind you of that."

"Or what happens to you when you pester him about it," John added.

Harry winced. "You win. I'm not landing in any of your cupboards, Sir. With all due respect, I've seen them."

The Brigadier shook his head. "They will keep giving me those tacky awards," he said. "And I'm not leaving them lying around."

* * *

When left alone this time, Rose and Joshua said nothing. They just watched the sky tinge yellow, then pinks, and fade into lilac. Joshua's arms were around Rose and she snuggled into him against the chill of the falling twilight. One by one, stars flared into sight, silently greeting the pair, but unwilling to intrude.

Even without speaking, the two told each other all they felt. A brush of his thumb against her arm said, "I don't want to leave you." Her head snuggling that tiny bit closer told him, "I don't want you to leave. But I know you have to." The slight catch in his sigh revealed, "I'm afraid to face this; I'm afraid it won't work; I'm afraid I'll lose you." Her squeeze of his hand reassured him, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm so proud of you."

This mute conversation was broken by John opening the door and beckoning them in. "I'm not postponing another dinner because of you."

* * *

After dinner, a logistics meeting was called in the sitting room, with each member of the group taking the same perches as before.

"Dr. Sullivan informed me," the Brigadier began, "that the longer the rehab program, the higher the chances of success. With that in mind, I've contacted Springwood Psychiatric. It has a six week program for substance abuse and incorporates several different therapy styles. They've agreed to take you, but won't have a bed on the substance abuse ward for a week."

Joshua tensed and shook his head. "That's no good," Joshua protested. "I mean, I'm sure the place is fine, but…I don't trust maself alone for a week. I could do anything in a week. What's to keep me from relapsing before I even start?"

"You're always welcome here, Joshua," Doris pointed out. She regretted the offer, though not the sentiment, the moment she saw her nephew's grip on Rose's hand tighten possessively. If it hurt, Rose gave no indication, returning the ferocity of his hold. Of course he didn't want to be so far from Rose for a week before being admitted.

"You could stay at my place." Rose offered tentatively.

Joshua chuckled. "I hardly think Jackie would appreciate that."

Not to mention her mum's liquor cabinet was fully stocked. "Or…" Rose blushed crimson. "If you're afraid of being alone…I could stay at your flat?" She tried not to think of what the other people in the room thought of her after that offer. It was sincerely meant. If he needed her, she'd be there, propriety be damned. Joshua's gaze burned into her, searching her and branding her in an instant.

"That…wouldn't be a good idea," he murmured thickly, the desire in his eyes preventing her from feeling rejected, far from it, she hardly curbed the desire to snog him.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, obviously uneasy at witnessing this scene. "Well, I did want to run a few tests," he offered, face averted, "and I do have a spare room. You could stay with me until you go in."

Joshua nodded curtly. His eyes snapped up from Rose's. "That'd be fantastic. Thanks, Harry." Joshua's gratitude was evident.

With the plans made, the party prepared to disband for the night. It had already been determined that they would all stay 'til morning. All of the men had a few essentials that they kept at the house and Joshua had had the foresight to make sure Rose packed an overnight bag.

Doris, in her infinite (or as close to infinite as was humanly possible) wisdom, arranged for Rose to have the room next to Joshua's.

Rose slipped into the outfit from the night before with the same awareness of the fact that a single wall barred her naked form from Joshua's sight and touch. Tonight, there was the added consciousness that he was hidden from her as well. This time, he would be stripping on the other side of the wall. She wondered what he wore to bed. She wondered if he wore anything to bed.

And that was a thought she didn't need to be having, much less compulsively dwelling on, in his Uncle and Aunt's house, Rose determined as she arranged the pillows. Nevertheless, behind her eyelids, Joshua's flame-blue eyes speared her from where he relaxed among the rich maroon sheets that she currently inhabited as she settled in the familiar arms of sleep.

* * *

Rose was awakened from a peculiar dream about estate buildings designed to look like giant grasshoppers by a a strangled noise that was a cross between a sob and a scream. It echoed in her head even after her ears stopped sending her brain signals that they could hear it. She was halfway across the room before her mind was restored enough for her to recognize that she was stumbling on autopilot towards the source of that noise: Joshua.

She wrenched her own door open and, a handful of steps later, repeated the process with his door. His curtains had been left open, piercing the room with moon and star light. Able to see her way to his side without bumping into anything or falling headlong, Rose sat on the edge of the bed and called his name, watching his tense face, drawn and beaded with sweat as he writhed in pain on the pillows. When her voice had no effect, Rose had no choice but to wake him and free him temporarily from the prison his mind must construct anew each night.

Her hand trembled slightly as she lay it on his clammy cheek. For less than an instant, Rose thought she saw fire and heard screams and smelled charred flesh, but it was gone before she could analyze the sensations. In that minute amount of time, during which she almost thought she'd heard a name for in the corners of her mind, Joshua's eyes snapped open, filled with loss, and fear, and confusion.

Then he was in her arms, clinging to her as if she were the only thing safe in the universe, his only hope of peace. Rose hummed mindlessly at him, hoping he could hear her care in her voice. When the sobbing had passed, she felt him slowly grow tense against her, afraid again.

"It's okay. You don't have to talk about it," she murmured.

Nearly all of her air was knocked from her in the sudden force of his grip after those words. His lips fell on hers, hungry and desperate, and Rose could feel tears still running down his face, falling into their kiss. Her heart broke for it.

When they parted, Rose ran a soothing hand through his short-cropped hair.

"Will you be all right?" she asked tentatively. The tears had stopped, but the war still raged in his eyes, unmasked.

"As long as you're here," he croaked.

"I'm here," she assured him and felt his arms spasm almost in shock.

Joshua lay back, taking Rose with him so that she lay almost on top of him. Last night, Joshua had supported Rose. Tonight, she willingly returned the favor.

For the record, Rose's sleepy mind noted, he wore blue flannel jim-jam bottoms.

Tracing lazy patterns on each other's skin, relishing the steady heart beats and breath of the other, Joshua and Rose returned to sleep.

* * *

Doris was accustomed to waking early and had never managed to break the habit. She had often had her first cup of tea before her husband stumbled down to the kitchen. Some days, she envied his ability to sleep relatively late. Others, she welcomed the quiet time which could bring the glorious surprises of the morning, be it a beautiful sunrise or a newly hatched bird cheeping near the back door.

Sunday morning was definitely one of the latter times.

The sun wasn't yet visible on the horizon, but its light had stolen into the house. Doris padded down the hall of the more residential wing of the house, craving her tea mug, when she noticed that the doors to both Joshua's and Rose's rooms were open. Curious, Doris peeked in the nearest room, Rose's. The bed was crumpled, as someone had obviously slept there, but it was empty and, on inspection, cold.

The next logical place to snoop was, of course, Joshua's room. And there, Doris found her answers. Snuggled together in the center of his bed, covers kicked off and tangled at their feet, were Joshua and Rose.

Her head was on his chest, her arm thrown over his abdomen. Their hips were aligned, and one of Rose's legs had managed to wedge between Joshua's.

For his part, Joshua's chin was against the crown of her head, his nose just able to breathe in the scent of her shampoo. The arm closest to her wrapped around her shoulders, hugging her close. His other hand was entwined with the one she'd rested on his stomach. Both were almost smiling.

Doris grinned at the sight and rushed back to her room, all thoughts of tea momentarily forgotten. She was glad, this day, that Alistair had been known to sleep through a tornado siren, or indeed, anything but the phone. She stubbed her toe in her rush and let out a soft stream of curses, most nonsensical, as she hopped toward the cabinet which held her small electronics.

* * *

Over breakfast, Doris watched the couple's interaction with amused glee. There wasn't any shyness, but a sort of tentative confusion, as if they thought they should be shy, or maybe the other one was. As Harry cleared away the dishes in thanks for the meal, Doris remembered a bit of shopping she'd done while in town the other day.

"Rose, dear, I hope you don't mind. After our lunch on Friday," Doris ignored the stunned look on Joshua's face, "I stopped off in an antique store to pick up an order. When I saw this, I just knew it was made for you." She handed the confused girl a small box that had obviously once been blue velvet but most of the fuzz had been worn off with time. "I tried, but I couldn't find a pendant for it."

Inside the box, was a pewter chain. Joshua peered over Rose's shoulder and murmured "fantastic" approvingly when he saw it. There were nine tiny strands, braided together. Each one looked impossibly delicate, but together the chain was obviously strong. It was simple and flabbergastingly complex. It was beautiful. It was everything Rose was.

Rose looked at Doris, completely floored, unable to find the words to say, except the obvious. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it."

* * *

Rose was stuffing the last of her things into her duffel bag, when Joshua came and stood in the open doorway to what she suspected may have just become her room. He knocked hesitatingly on the jamb. She looked up and grinned at him. He returned the smile, still uncertain. Rose's brow creased in confusion.

"What's up?" she asked, because asking what was wrong might send up his walls.

"I was thinking. You should have this." He paused before holding out a key to her. Rose raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. "It's a key to my flat." Both of her eyebrows met her hairline. "…I'm gonna need someone to look after it while I'm gone. There's no one I trust more."

Joshua finally met her eyes and saw pride and hope and affection (he wouldn't label it anything stronger than that) in her expression. Her hand smoothed along his jaw.

"I'm honored." She brought his head down for a soft, chaste kiss. "Looks like Doris doesn't need to worry about a pendant, after all."


	26. Chapter 25

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Jack has agreed to sign himself over if we give him Ianto as his slave. The Doctor got a bit steely at that. Apparently, he doesn't approve of slavery. And now, we get to witness a debate on the benefits and harms of slave-bases societies. Many we haven't heard of, and most haven't existed yet. Jessa, holding up her "Hi Liz, and thanks!" sign, has stuck her two cents in and may very well talk the Doctor's ear off before this is over... **

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons

* * *

**Chapter 25:**

Harry Sullivan frowned at the text book in front of him. As the paragraph continued, the frown solidified into a glare. By the end of the page, most of the words were cowering in fear, and the punctuation was hiding along the spine. He had learned long ago that no medical text ever offered good news unless it was produced by a pharmaceutical company. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be inclined to prevent this, not even the marvels of Gallifreyan physiology added to the equation.

With a sigh, Harry returned his attention to the contrast MRI he still held in his right hand. There just wasn't enough structural difference to give him hope, and there was very little chance that any of his texts would rewrite themselves to say "If patient is a 900-year-old slightly psychotic alien..." Finally his gaze fell on where Joshua feigned disinterest on the couch, As You Like It propped open on his knee.

"I'm not doing this," Harry said without preamble. Joshua's eyes sprung up to meet his, burning with indignant fury. Harry rushed forward. "I'm not saying you can't. Quite the opposite; I'm sure it will do you a world of good, but I don't have the facilities should you seize. Your body has become so dependant on the alcohol to replace a neurotransmitter, that it doesn't bother making enough on its own. There's the possibility of death, and I don't have a defibrillator stashed in my cupboard. Springwood'll have the necessary beds and equipment. I'm not going to be responsible for your death just because you're impatient."

And don't even get him started on what dying would do to the Doctor in his current condition. He'd be willing to bet even the Time Lord wouldn't know the answer to that one.

Joshua's mouth had set into a grim line but the fires in his eyes had been banked. "What do you suggest?"

"I'm going to monitor and control your alcohol intake. You will be given the bare minimum. It will not be anywhere near the amount you've become accustomed to consuming, and you will not enjoy it, but you will have no choice in the matter because there's no alcohol in the flat. John will bring by the amount I prescribe when I need him to. And I'll make sure even you can't get out of the flat if need be."

A wry smirk twisted Joshua's face. "Prescribing alcohol? Isn't that a bit eighteenth century?"

"Should appeal to you, then."

* * *

Joshua ignored the throbbing ache behind his eyes. The pain spiked in double time corresponding with the beat of his hearts. He forced his eyes to focus on the page in front of him, the pen in his hands, the chicken scratch that already littered the paper, anything but the clock which he had looked at 15.36 seconds ago.

He was beginning to hate Henricks. He knew it was childish to be envious of the time that her job stole, but he couldn't bring himself to try to stop. It would take far more than the indignity of being juvenile to make him stop craving her beside him every second. He would be without her for six weeks, and he wanted to drink her in, to sate himself of her touch, her smile, her laugh. Time spent with her did nothing to assuage his need, and every moment away from her only served to remind him of why he couldn't get enough. Still, he couldn't ask her to take a week off work, and wouldn't. She'd worked too hard to gain the respect of her boss, and an unscheduled week long absence would undo all of that.

One day though, he vowed, she wouldn't have to work anywhere she didn't want to do. He'd give her the stars she deserved. Before he could ponder where that thought came from, there was a knock on the door. In his haste to answer it, Joshua's boot collided with the table, sending an empty glass, coaster adhered to the bottom, tumbling to the floor. Joshua ignored it; the woman who beckoned him from the other side of the door was far more important.

When Harry looked up from where he was inspecting the glass for damage, Joshua and Rose had entangled themselves quite contentedly in the threshold. He would never know if Rose had launched herself in or of Joshua had hauled her to him. He suspected they didn't either, not did they care.

"For the sake of my dishes, Rose, _please_ don't bother with the niceties of knocking," he commented acerbically from his kneeled position. Joshua looked down at the doctor and realized what he had done.

"Ah," he said eloquently, face blank. Rose giggled apologetically and nodded, her smile enticing even Dr. Sullivan to join in.

Joshua closed the door without even a glance at the freedom beyond. Harry was surprised at how easy it had been to contain the Time Lord in a small flat. In a flash of insight that had impressed even Doris, Harry had had Joshua promise not only himself but Rose as well that he wouldn't leave the flat until it was time to go to Springwood unless it was on fire, and that he wouldn't drink any alcohol but what Harry gave him.

Knowing that it wasn't enough to stave of the dreams, Harry still stuck to his guns and prescribed three drinks a day. Joshua's hand shook almost constantly, and the man could be quite irritable, but it was plain to see that he did his best to not lash out. Harry had discovered early on that keeping the telly off kept the random "stupid apes" rants to a minimum. When Rose was there, he was almost nice.

At least once a night, Rose was awakened by the mobile she fell asleep clutching to try to soothe Joshua out of or after one of his nightmares. They would speak softly until one or both of them fell back asleep, often not even using words, just murmured sounds to assure one another of their presence, at least in voice and spirit.

Intellectually, Harry thought he should feel too old to be woken regularly by a 900 year old Time Lord's night-terrors, but he couldn't find any malice or judgment. He was, after all, a doctor, and never had someone needed more help.

* * *

Rose was too preoccupied to realize that anyone might have reason to worry about her.

Wilson watched as, day after day, she came to work visibly exhausted but cheerful and willing to work as always. There could be no complaints about a slackening of the quality of her work; her sales numbers reminded high. But when, on the third consecutive day, Wilson caught even Joseph eyeing her with something likening to concern, he could remain silent no longer.

When the clock struck 12:30, Wilson strode up to his manager and gave a cocky, half-salute. "Rose and I are going on lunch, now," he said straightforwardly. Joseph blinked, then nodded once. On his way off the floor, Wilson grabbed Rose by the left elbow, away from the clothes she arranged, dragging her with him.

"Lunch time!" he sing-songed, ignoring Rose's spluttered protests. They stopped at the break room just long enough for him to toss her purse at her before hauling her off again. It wasn't until they were seated at the café where Rose had dined with Doris, no one either of them knew in sight, that he fixed her with a serious look. "What's going on?"

Rose colored, embarrassed at being caught, guilty at not explaining to Wilson at first, unsure it was really her place to say. Everyone knew that Joshua had a problem. He'd made no secret of his drinking. He'd never hidden it away, but practiced it in an open place that worshipped alcohol. She was so proud of him it almost hurt. Ultimately, everyone would have to know that he'd changed. But Wilson wasn't part of Powell Estate life, he was Rose's friend from work, didn't know about all that. She'd mentioned that Joshua drank too much and Wilson had seemed quite worried, so she hadn't wanted to bring it up again.

She smiled half-heartedly. Wilson, who had waited until the conflict disappeared from her face, raised an eyebrow.

"Joshua's going into rehab."

Wilson shook his head to clear it. "Really?"

"Yeah. Next week. It's way up north, though. So, while he's still here, I've been over at where he's staying almost whenever I'm not at work. I don't get home 'till nearly two." Her enthusiasm waned towards the end of the explanation, and she refrained from mentioning her nightly phone calls. Wilson's perceptive eyes narrowed.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing."

"What aren't you telling me?" he repeated calmly.

Rose sighed heavily, knowing two things: eventually, Wilson would wear her down so she may as well give in gracefully, and Wilson was really the only one she could tell.

"It's just... he's gonna be gone for six weeks. What if... he sobers up and realizes he can do so much better than me?" Tears pricked in her eyes.

Wilson almost laughed. Fortunately their drinks chose that moment to arrive, so he took a sip to compose himself.

"You've always said he's clever, brilliant even," Wilson began.

Rose nodded glumly. "He's some kind of genius."

"Exactly. Then he's far too smart to let you slip from his fingers. Especially when he's sobering up for you."

"Not for me. I never asked him to."

"Honey, I may be gay, but I'm not stupid, and I know how a man's mind works. Were there other reasons? Yeah. Were they good reasons? Yeah. Did he have most if not all of those other reasons before he met you? Yeah. Did he ignore those other good reasons until you came along? Got the pattern yet? 'Cause the answer is unmistakably yes!" He was almost panting in exasperation at the end of his speech.

By this point, Rose was bright red but thoughtful. "Still," she began uncertainly, "six weeks is a long time. Absence does not make the heart grow fonder. Whoever said it did was an absolute tit!"

Wilson was taken aback by this unexpected outburst. He stared at her curiously until she averted her eyes.

"Jimmy Stone started sleeping around when mum and I went to Bev's wedding for a week. How long 'til someone there, who knows what he's going through and can help him through it so much better than me, comes on to him?"

Wilson understood her fear and her strength and her insight and her stupidity in the breadth of two sentences. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it supportively. "There is no one better qualified to help him than you," he told her firmly. "You may not have the knowledge of someone who's gone through it, but you love him and believe me when I say that that is definitely worth something. Everything you need to know can be found at the library. Read up on it if you want. But don't sell yourself short like that."

Rose continued to look doubtful, so he decided to lay out one more detail she would probably never consider on her own. He grinned mischievously. "If you're so worried about him finding a new flame, just make sure he's too busy trying to cool down from you. Ring him up. Tell him what you're wearing, what you want to do to him, what you want him to do to you, where you want it, whatever.

"A long distance relationship can be just as hot as one where you live together. One of my boyfriends and I were together for eight months after he was transferred until I found out he still hadn't told his parents about us. And you've already met his folks. Of a sort." Wilson tapped Rose's chin with his knuckle. "So, chin up. You've got him hooked. All you have to do is reel him in, nice and easy. 'Cause that line is never gonna break."

Rose nodded and, for the first time since they'd sat down, offered a real, sunny smile. Wilson looked closely, amazed she hadn't begun to cry, despite the fears that were eating at her. He smiled back and the rest of their lunch went smoothly.

* * *

It took Jackie a day longer before she confronted her daughter.

After being stunned by the lack of recrimination the day after her most recent binge, Jackie had wondered if maybe the effects were just delayed. After all, her daughter didn't come home that night or until very late the night after that. Almost immediately, a pattern was developed where Rose was out the door nearly as soon as she woke and wasn't back till well after Jackie had given up seeing her daughter again that day and gone to bed.

On Thursday, Jacqueline Andrea Suzette Prentice Tyler had had enough. It was just after two when the front door opened, and she was ready. "Are you planning on talking to me again, ever?"

Rose jumped at her mother's voice. "Sorry, mum. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. Where have you been this week?"

"Mum, please!" Rose begged placatingly. "I don't have a curfew."

"Tell me where you've been!"

"With Joshua!"

"That drunken-!" Jackie began angrily.

"Mum! He's staying with Harry! So, we've had a chaperone, for Christ's sake!"

"What's wrong with his place, then? Too good for you?"

"He's-he's going to rehab, alright? So, Harry's looking after him until he can get in. He'll be gone for six weeks. I'm not sorry for wanting to spend as much time as I can with him while I can!"

Jackie stopped, unable to even begin to formulate a retort to that. "Rehab? Really?"

Rose sagged, relieved that the ensuing argument seemed to be circumvented. "He's gonna stop drinking," she continued gently.

"That man can't stop drinking," Jackie returned, bitterly.

"Not without help, no," Rose conceded. "But he's got his aunt and uncle, and he's got Harry and John, and he-"

"He's got you, I suppose," Jackie jumped in, venomously. Her envy was palpable.

"Yes, he has. But I was going to say he'll have rehab to help him through the worst of it. He can do it," Rose added with conviction.

Jackie sighed. He wanted to be better for her Rose. She could identify with that. Only, he was actually doing it. She had to admit that Joshua was going to lengths to become a better man, to make himself worthy of her daughter. He still wasn't good enough, but even cradle-robbers had to be given some measure of credit for trying. She pursed her lips, letting another sigh out through her nose when she realized that Rose had been waiting anxiously for a response.

"He's still a perv," Jackie muttered with a grudging almost-smile. "And he still doesn't deserve you," she added almost sternly when Rose encased her in a hug.

"Oh, but he does, Mum," Rose murmured before pressing a kiss to Jackie's cheek and practically skipping off to bed.


	27. Chapter 26

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has been perusing our joint creation. He seems to have hit a snag. He says Time Lords would never be so undignified to do anything against a wall. Jack tried to remind him of "that time when Rose wore that-" and was quickly silenced. OV has just thrown the paperwork on the ground in her need to get the details of this little lapse.**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons

* * *

Detox. It wasn't the terrible word it should be. It was kinda fun to say. It tickled the palate and played around the teeth. It whistled through the air and lived longer than it should in the ear. It weighed down the soul of the speaker and preyed on the mind of the listener.

The hand Rose was holding in both of hers was shaking. She gripped it a bit tighter in support and mutual unhappiness. She was fairly certain it was at least as much from nerves as from detox.

Detox. That's what Harry called it. He was going into technicalities, of course, but Rose was just focused on the fact that Joshua was going to be locked away from family and friends and would be longing for a drink not just to make the pain go away, but because his body could no longer properly function without it. His nervous system would try to break down.

It was Saturday night and Rose curled up on the couch, pressed comfortably against Joshua. Harry had decided that it was time to give them a "brief" lecture on what Joshua was going to go through. Joshua had tried to say that he knew and that Rose didn't need to know all the bloody details, but Rose put a cool hand on his sweaty cheek and said she wanted to know. His eyes had blazed with protective anger, and fear, and pride, and gratitude. His mouth a grim line, Joshua nodded for Harry to proceed.

"What you have to understand," Harry began, "is that alcoholism is a disease that can kill. It can kill you slowly if you keep it up, but it is also an addiction that can kill you to break it, unless you're careful, and unless you're monitored by medical professionals."

Over the course of the lecture, Rose's grip on Joshua tightened, wishing she could take all the pain he was going to go through onto herself with force of will and close contact. Harry talked about neuro-transmitters and dendrites and things Joshua seemed to understand - genius - and that Rose did not. All she knew was that he was going to suffer to surrender his addiction, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to make it all go away. Eventually Harry ran out of things that he felt comfortable saying and lapsed into silence.

Rose had intended the evening to be as light-hearted as possible, and though her plans had been derailed, she was able to rally them admirably. She popped in a film she'd brought with her without letting him see the title. Joshua's laugh when he realized what was playing broke the tension remaining from the laugh riot (not) of Harry's verbal informational brochure.

She curled up next to him on the couch, their sides pressed together, his arm around her shoulder, her hand on his thigh. They watched the beginning of the movie companionably, commenting the entire time. Harry quickly excused himself using an transparent excuse that only highlighted the fact that he wanted to leave the pair alone. Rose smiled gratefully at him, before mocking the hair of one of Ariel's sisters.

"I don't remember Flounder being so annoying," Joshua said, breaking a pleasant silence that had fallen over them.

"Hey, I don't remember Ariel being so flat-chested," Rose rejoined playfully.

"I hadn't noticed," Joshua said with amused dignity. His eyes sparkled down at her, and when she looked up to retort, her breath caught and her words died on her lips.

God, she was going to miss this. She was going to miss everything about him, really. Six weeks was far too long to spend without his eyes burning through her, his touch igniting her, his smell surrounding her. She felt like a randy teenager, wanting to neck on his parents' couch, but she didn't care. It was more than that: she felt cherished and protected and alive in ways she'd never been before, never could be without him.

His kiss was heartbreakingly tender, and, though she wanted to pour her desperation and need into it, Rose forced herself to respond in kind, with all of her love and none of the loss she already felt. He had plenty to deal with without her adding an extra portion of guilt to his plate. She wasn't so needy that she had to tell him and feel righteous for sharing everything with him, not if it would cause him needless pain. When he returned, she could tell him how much she'd missed him. With both of them holding back, it remained a chaste affair and they turned back to the movie.

When The Little Mermaid drew to a close, Rose was yawning frequently. The past week with only a few hours of sleep was taking its toll, and she wanted to curse her body for betraying her so. She would happily sleep for the next six weeks, if only she could have this one night, alert and unsullied.

Joshua smiled fondly at the petulant pout that crossed Rose's face when she yawned once again.

"I believe," Harry's dry voice appeared from the doorway, "that you are much too tired to go home and, as a doctor, I recommend you remain here 'til morning and rest." Rose blinked at him in surprise and Joshua beamed at him gratefully. "If you would give me the number, I'd be…" Even Harry stumbled over his next word when in context of Jackie, "happy to ring your mother and tell her of my medical opinion."

When Rose, still obviously stunned, handed over her mobile, displaying her mum's number, Joshua grinned at her and tightened his hold on her just that bit more.

Apparently, Jackie accepted Dr. Sullivan's credentials, because no struggle was revealed by Harry's side of the conversation.

"If you'll just let me prepare the bed for you," Harry began when he returned from the phone call.

Rose was tired, but not to be underestimated.

"What bed? You've only got two."

"Well, mine, of course."

"Bollocks to that. I'll kip on the sofa if need be, but I won't have you putting your back out on account of me. And that's my medical opinion," Rose declared.

Harry blinked, and Joshua hid a smirk and the aggressive compassion his Rose displayed.

"Now," Rose continued with a modicum of gentleness. "It's late, and you're right, I'm knackered. So, truth be told, I'd like to spend the night in his," she jerked a thumb at a bemused Joshua, "room. Keep him close; keep an eye on him, even. Maybe you won't have to be woken up by him tonight." Joshua wondered, as Harry's face turned scarlet, if sleep deprivation was lending itself to her frankness. He examined the dark circles under her eyes and felt a stab of guilt for doing this to her.

"However," Rose continued, either unaware or unconcerned by Joshua's scrutiny, "if you've a problem with it, I'm content with the sofa. It's up to you."

Harry was so red, Joshua wondered if there was any blood left to oxygenate the brain, and he stuttered when he finally spoke. "B-by all means," was all he managed with a vague motion towards the spare bedroom. Rose smiled at him gratefully and headed off to bed, Joshua happily in tow.

* * *

After the two had trekked off to bed, Harry didn't expect to see them for some time. Knowing sleep was, at best, unlikely tonight, Harry retired to his room to think instead.

Harry wasn't willing to admit to Joshua that he was worried. Joshua wouldn't actually understand why there was a problem, since Joshua had no idea he was an alien from outer space. Harry had said that Springwood had the facilities to deal with any physical side effects, but they didn't, not really. No one did. If Joshua's facade cracked more than a tiny bit - if they had to draw blood, for example, or found a reason to take an MRI themselves... The Brigadier had explained that his nephew had some unique health conditions, but other than pulse and blood pressure, there was nothing they could do to explain.

If they caught on what he was, really caught on... And if Joshua had a seizure, there was every chance they would. He sat at his desk, fretting, desperately afraid for his friend and sincerely regretting ever agreeing not to call out the Doctor for this.

He pulled out the one Gallifreyan medical text the Doctor had given him. The Time Lord had cheerfully and condescendingly promised that Harry could understand it, since it was practically a first aid text, and the TARDIS had been compelled to translate it. It was from this he had taken the information about Joshua's broken bones (three to four days repair time without bio-control), and he hoped now that it would say something useful, probably not about alcoholism, but maybe about poisoning, which was practically what Joshua had done to himself.

What he found got him on the phone to the Brigadier, explaining that they had to get the Doctor back, however briefly, and why. The Brigadier insisted, of course, that he be on hand for this, because the Doctor had entrusted him with certain things, including the sonic screwdriver. Even though it wouldn't be needed, it might be helpful. The Brigadier was planning to deliver his nephew to Springwood, anyway, so he would be there in the morning.

Harry got to sleep, feeling enormously better.

* * *

The Brigadier arrived at 7 am on Sunday. Dr. Sullivan met him and his lovely wife at the door, motioning for them to be quiet. John was with them, grumbling quietly that he wanted coffee on a day like this.

"If we're going to wake him up, why do we need to pussy-foot around now?" the Brigadier muttered.

"It's not... just him," Harry whispered, silently pushing open the door. It revealed Joshua and Rose, lying on their sides, facing each other, legs entwined, arms wrapped around each other, chests pressed together, Rose's head tucked protectedly beneath Joshua's chin, her nose nuzzling his neck. Rose was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of Joshua's pajama pants. Doris smiled before retreating.

Trusting the superior hearing of Time Lords, the Brigadier whispered the words to briefly restore the Doctor.

He awoke suddenly, tensing his muscles to prevent jumping and rousing Rose. Slowly, carefully and, it appeared, reluctantly, the Doctor disentangled from the slumbering human who lay next to him. He slipped his legs off the bed and stood, still bending over the bed, hovering over Rose. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead as though trying, without actually entering her mind, to impress upon even her subconscious how much he didn't want to leave her side. Then, with pain lingering in his eyes and the slight tremor of his touch, he placed a finger against her temple.

"Sleep," he murmured. "Sleep deeply and only have pleasant dreams. For me." There appeared to be power in his touch and his voice, meant to ensure they wouldn't be discovered. Then he rose, stiffly, and motioned for Harry and the Brigadier to follow him out of the room.

"Couldn't have talked me out of it?" was the first thing the Doctor had to say when they entered the kitchen. "Stupid idea, really, dunno how I came up with it. Well, yeah I do..." He started moving around the room, pulling things out of the cupboards, dodging a complaining John who appeared to now be willing to settle for anything caffeinated. "I'm exactly the sort to be mad enough to think if I'm not around it, I'll be fine, no temptation. And Rose..."

His eyes looked even more haunted than usual.

"Do you want us to do something about her while you're gone?" the Brigadier asked, regret in his voice. He was afraid the Doctor would say something about keeping him away from the girl.

"Yeah, look after her. Make sure she's safe. Make sure she knows I'll be back for her."

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, as the Doctor stuffed a large handful of salted peanuts into his mouth.

"Detox, right? I'm activating my enzymes... God, this is stupid. I'd look a right git if I had to do this in a real emergency." He opened a can of Coke from the fridge, poured it in after the peanuts and sighed. "Anybody know anything shocking?" he asked.

"Yeah," said John, smirking like a happy shark. "Harry says you can impregnate her if you shag her against a wall. You might want to watch out for that."

The Doctor gaped at him, and then his whole body went rigid, his head flew back, and an enormous cloud of black and silvery smoke went pouring out of his mouth. Harry, looking fascinated, studied the entire effect with gleaming eyes.

The instant it was over, the Doctor leveled a blazing glower at John. Benton stepped back, unable to avoid it with the ferocity in the Doctor's eyes. "D'you mind showing her some respect?" he snapped. "She's..." He smiled, contentedly. "Fantastic," he said, decisively. And then he shook his head. "I'll probably pass out," he explained, his speech slurring. "Used to all the toxins in my system. But it's gone now, so no worries." He shook his head again, sharply.

John and Harry were quick enough to catch him before he hit the floor.

"So…is fainting better or worse than seizing?" John asked glibly.

The Brigadier probably would have cursed if Doris hadn't been present. Harry was staring mutely down at his patient, and John was far too amused by the situation to actually be of any use.

"Well?" Doris demanded, looking expectantly at each man in turn. "Aren't you going to get him back into bed? The floor can't be good for him, and it wouldn't be fair to Joshua or Rose for him to wake up out of his bed."

The men, with some difficulty, managed to get the Doctor back into bed. Moments after he'd been covered in the blankets, his breathing deepened and slowed into a natural sleeping pattern. Whether this presaged his return to Joshua, or if it meant that his purification cycle was complete, or even if it was because he was next to Rose again was anyone's guess, but he very soon adjusted position so that he could pull Rose close to him. Her brow wrinkled in protest to the sudden movement, but she seemed to recognize the arms that held her, or the chest that cradled her head, or maybe the scent because she quickly quieted and sighed happily, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

* * *

Light peeked maliciously through the blinds to assault Rose's still shut eyes. Not yet ready to be awake, she scrunched her face up. A shadow almost immediately appeared to block the pernicious day ball's vicious attack. The fortuitous arrival of this shadow was accompanied by a shift in the mattress and, combined, they made Rose conscious enough to be aware to the cool, soothing fingers ghosting up and down her arm as though memorizing its texture.

Damn it, now she was awake and there was nothing to be done for it. Prepared to be in a bad mood, Rose dragged her eyes open. All thoughts of cursing the person who had unwittingly woken her fled.

Joshua's eyes gazed at her hungrily, displaying a conflicting array of emotions. Longing and a haunting sadness was battled by fierce pride, possessive affection and a strange, almost surprised contentment. On seeing her awake, he smiled and brushed his lips against hers.

"Hello," he murmured.

"Hello," she returned, smiling. She stretched and nestled into him, perfectly satisfied to lie with him…before awareness shattered her peaceful musings. Almost as though he knew when she realized what day it was, he tightened his arms around her, let her feel his desperation even as he whispered soothingly and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice thick with tears she wouldn't shed in front of him.

"Almost 8:30." Regret lay heavy on his voice. Rose nodded once against his chest before raising her face to search his.

"Face the music?"

"With you, I'd face the mouths of hell," he told her. A sad smile lingered on both their faces. Once more, their lips met before they left the safe tranquility of the bed.

Doris met them with a mug of tea (how she'd already memorized how Rose liked hers was a mystery) and a hug for each of them. Harry raised his mug in a silent acknowledgement of their presence, or possibly a salute to what Joshua was about to do. The Brigadier gave them each a nod, an almost-smile hiding on his lips. John had been sent to collect their transportation for the day.

Far too soon, it was time for 6 people to crowd a mini-van that the Brigadier had reluctantly rented. He'd never liked the giant machines: too much like a family friendly version of the jeeps he'd driven in the service. Jeeps should not carry children. Doris sat in the front passenger seat next to her husband who was not enjoying his duty as designated driver. Harry and John sat in the second row of seats which were, mercifully separated, or the two men would have done a remarkably accurate impersonation of bickering siblings quibbling over who took more than their fair share of room. Rose and Joshua sat in the back which was like a usual back seat in cars everywhere. It advertised an ability to seat 3, but in actuality it sat approximately 1.5 people. Fortunately, neither of its occupants minded the close quarters.

It was a long drive that started out tense, relaxed into camaraderie and then tightened back up.

Springwood Psychiatric was tucked away in the countryside. The grounds were immaculately charming. A high, thick shrub marked the boundaries on all sides, lending an air of privacy. The hospital itself was both anachronistic and geographically misplaced. It looked like a plantation-mansion from the South-Eastern United States in the early 1800's. The waiting-room continued this theme, but behind the heavy wooden door that led to the interior was a cold, white room. A nurse came through and Rose caught a glimpse of the sterile world that was reaching forward to ensnare Joshua. She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him.

A doctor came out with a clipboard and a smile to say they were ready for a Joshua Stewart. Harry and John each shook his hand. The Brigadier gave him a stiff hug. Doris pressed a flat package into his hands and laid a kiss on his cheek. Joshua snapped to a military attention and sketched his uncle a formal salute that was returned by a man who looked both proud and thunderstruck.

Rose blinked down tears that she would not shed and smiled up at Joshua. Everyone else politely averted their eyes. Joshua cupped her face in his hand, smiling softly, sadly, into her eyes. However long they would be apart, his eyes insisted, they would be together again, soon. Rose could very nearly hear his voice, insistent, in her head. She leaned into his touch, and he drew her close, a tight hug with trembling arms. She hugged him back fiercely, silently repeating, over and over, "You can do this, I know you can."

He bent his head and kissed her, then, and it felt like that very first kiss, all tentative and soft. She let him decide what he needed from it, and it seemed he needed what she needed, too, because he deepened the kiss, suddenly and unexpectedly. As her lips parted under the amorous assault, she felt like he was drawing her into him, taking her along with her taste, to keep her close to him even while there were miles between them. She tried to memorize the sensation and the flavor of him, to let him know that she would never want another kiss in her life if it didn't come from him. There was such sweet promise in his touch, and when he drew back at last, he rested his forehead on hers for a long moment. His eyes were burning, as if by wishing alone, he could force time itself to stop for them.

"I'll come back to you, Rose," Joshua whispered, and flashed her a grin which broke her heart. "I'll always come back to you."

"I'll wait for you," she said, this time meaning so much more than when she'd said the same at Beltane. Joshua nodded, neither wanted to break eye contact.

"Mr. Stewart?" the doctor asked politely.

Joshua sighed and looked at the man, reluctance in every cell in his body. He touched Rose's face one last time, then lifted his small case and gave the rest of the group a nod in farewell. Wordlessly, he and the physician entered the cold, white hospital, his physical senses submitting input that echoed how his hearts felt as he stepped away from his Rose.


	28. Chapter 27

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. After unsuccesfully questioning the Doctor on what Jack alluded to last week, OV has reluctantly returned to trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has continued to peruse our handiwork, now with Jack peering over his shoulder. Jack says that the Doctor, like Joshua, is prone to lose control only when Rose is involved. Before we could get too excited by this compliment to our characterization, he continued, trying to explain this one time when the Doctor used his teeth to...before being interrupted by a Time Lord who was in a rush to assure us that the teeth were new, he was trying them out.**

**And our paperwork is back on the ground...**

Please note: This fic carries an M rating for a lot of very good reasons

* * *

**Chapter 27:**

The door swung shut behind them with a soft click. Joshua quickly noticed that, overlaying the frigid sterility were vain splashes of color trying to cheer a stubbornly unhappy populace. An orderly came forward and took Joshua's case, and he knew it would end up being inspected. He rather hoped they'd settle for his coat being patted down, as it was a bit strange.

The doctor, his nametag announced him to be Bill Hendy, eyed the package that was clutched absentmindedly in Joshua's hand. "I'm going to need to look in that," he said. "You're here to cut your dependence on alcohol, but you haven't shed it yet." He was far too sympathetic, but it wasn't the empathy that Rose projected. It was something else, and it seemed almost unnatural. It made Joshua experience the sudden urge to retch, even as defensive walls slammed up. Whatever his aunt had given him, was only for him. It was private. Joshua crossed his arms, forbiddingly, shrugging deeper into his coat.

"Everything will go smoother if you cooperate," Dr. Hendy continued in his overly mild tones. Joshua eyed the man from his pink shirt with tie a slightly darker shade, to his starched lab coat. Even as he scorned the whole idea, he knew he wanted this place to work. That meant he had to let it work, let it do its thing. Reluctantly, he handed over the package. The pink-shirted one opened and cursorily examined the gift before handing it back to its proper owner.

Joshua was surprised to be handed a picture frame. Within it, smiled Rose and himself. He hadn't known the picture had been taken. It must have been snapped by John, that day in the park, the day he grabbed her hand and told her to run. For whatever reason, Benton had most likely taken it with his mobile, though, judging by the quality of the print he held, Aunt Doris must have digitally enhanced it. Joshua really didn't care why the picture had been taken; he was too busy basking in joy that he had received it.

Once out of the bleached hallway, Joshua saw that the rest of the rehab was a drab building. Cream walls from the 70's and a beige carpet had been worn into milky grays. The fluorescent lights had at least one in every three bulbs burned out to enhance the gloomy atmosphere.

He was led past the common room and to a room with two beds. An Asian man in his sixties was lounging on one of them, so Joshua assumed he would have the other one. The man looked up and grinned affably as Joshua settled Rose's picture next to his bed, always in easy reach.

"This is Son," Dr. Hendy introduced. "He will be your roommate. Son, this is Joshua."

Joshua nodded at him. Son was a cliché wrapped modernity. His gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun. He sported a neatly trimmed mustache and a goatee that was nearly a foot long. He looked like he was ready to play an emperor's advisor, except that wardrobe hadn't gotten to him yet. He wore baggy khaki shorts, and a painfully vibrant Hawaiian shirt. It was topped off with a ball cap for Manchester United.

"I'll leave you gentlemen to get acquainted," Dr. Hendy said. "Oh, and group is at 3."

Joshua rolled his eyes. There was a clock on the wall, but it was almost fifteen minutes fast. Still, not much time to wait. Joshua turned and stared out the window and wished for impossible things.

* * *

"Why don't we introduce ourselves?" Dr. Hendy began. This group, Joshua had learned, was for all the patients of Springwood who were admitted for chemical dependency. Dr. Hendy went, person by person, around the room. There were crack heads, heroin addicts, prescription pain pill abusers, and other alcoholics. Apparently, Dr. Hendy wanted his patients to become friends, because he'd ask what people did for a living, and what had brought them here.

Joshua found himself watching these people carefully, sizing them up, analyzing them. Son was addicted to pain medications because of injuries he'd sustained when working with a gymnastics troupe. There was another alcoholic, ironically named Sherry, who had an underlying anxiety disorder that Hendy hadn't caught yet, assuming it was the usual anxiety that detoxing alcoholics underwent. It would be soon, though, Joshua decided, that it became obvious that she had chronic anxiety.

Inevitably, it was Joshua's turn. "I'm Dr. Joshua Stewart," he stated gruffly.

"And why are you here?" Dr. Hendy asked.

"I'm an alcoholic."

"No," Hendy gently pressed. "That's what you're suffering from. Why are you here? What makes alcohol such a tempting escape?"

Joshua flashed through blurred memories of his childhood, never belonging to a family, bouncing from home to home. But his uncle had found him, and Joshua had grown past that, or at least around it. Working at UNIT had been everything it said on the tin: stressful, boring, dangerous, fun, full of friends and enemies, humans and aliens. But it hadn't broken him. In some country, he seemed to remember there was a tiny grave where his infant daughter, Susan, the glorious result of his indiscrete youth, would spend eternity…or at least the next five billion years until the sun expanded to destroy the planet. But though he could almost remember her smile, she hadn't started his descent.

Somewhere, hidden in his mind, chasing him through dreams, was a terror and a guilt. No one seemed to be able to tell him what it was that dogged him, but there might be fire or screams.

Having never done so before, Joshua chased these fleeting impressions, but they dodged his mental spotlights and cast pepper to confuse the dogs that hunted them. He could find nothing.

"Joshua?" Dr. Hendy sounded concerned. "Why are you here?"

"I…" a tear rolled down Joshua's cheek. "I don't know."

For a while, everyone stared at him with various levels of sympathy and confusion. Finally, Dr. Hendy tried a different tactic.

"What made you decide to come here?"

"I needed to try to deserve her," Joshua told him without thinking, still finding his way back from the void in his memory, picking carefully around the mines that were planted in his mind.

Hendy nodded and straightened his crisp, pink shirt before turning to another patient.

* * *

Joshua's case was waiting for him when he got back to his room, for which he was grateful, because he needed his notebook. Actually, he needed a drink, and he needed Rose, but the notebook would have to do.

There was also a schedule, which he perused with his usual efficiency. "Arts and crafts?" he muttered, disbelieving.

"Yeah, that's always fun," Son commented in cheerful tones. "Especially when there are actual artists forced to participate. You can almost see the steam roll out their ears."

"Fantastic," Joshua snarked. "Mine should make a great spectacle for you, then."

Son eyed his ears speculatively. Joshua frowned. "Don't say it," he suggested.

Son smirked. "Wasn't gonna say a thing," he said. "You have trust issues?" He leaned over, still smiling, and pulled out a book from somewhere.

Joshua looked at the book, read the title (it was written in Mandarin Chinese), and rolled his eyes. His room mate was going to be either a) extremely entertaining or b) extremely irritating. Or, there was always that dreaded third option: both.

He opened his case and found, to his surprise, a small, cream colored envelope lying on top of his neatly folded jumpers. He opened it and another photo fell out, a picture of Rose taken, it looked like, in front of Henricks. There was a card as well, and he smiled. Didn't know when she had put it in there, but he didn't care, either.

It was one of those cards with a picture on front and a blank inside, this one of several fish perusing a coral reef. The center fish bore a remarkable resemblance with Flounder.

Son glanced up and found his roommate smiling softly. Maybe not such an icy bastard, after all.

"_Dear Joshua,_" the card read, "_You're rubbish at phone calls, I'm rubbish at writing. Never will have your way with words. I can't think what to say, really. Just wanted to say hi or something._"

He shrugged deeper into his coat and leaned against the wall by the window, tenderly cradling the card in one hand, the photo in the other. "_I'm at work, it's my break, and I was just thinking it would be nice for you to have a note or letter so you wouldn't feel as lonely while you're settling in._"

He imagined her sitting in some room somewhere, probably chewing on the pen while she tried to put her thoughts to words and then the words to paper. "_You just aren't the stuffed animal type, which is what I'd give Shireen if it was her, so I guess a card will have to do._"

Yes, definitely no teddy bears for him. Only thing he'd ever, as far as he could remember, had any urge to cuddle was Rose.

"_Just remember that you can do this. I know you can and its what you want, to do something better. I'm so proud of you. Your family are all proud of you. What you're doing now, it's good, and that's - like you always, say - fantastic. I know it might be hard, and I'm sorry, but I know you're stronger than anything._"

Except being without her. He wasn't sure he was strong enough for that, but if being without her now made him better for her later, it would have to do. He would make it do.

"_Just know I'll be thinking about you. If they give you time, think about me, too. And if you need me, I'm always just a phone call away. Call me any time, even if you just want someone to make you laugh._"

He frowned. There was something off about that, what she'd just written, but he wasn't quite sure what it was.

"_Love from, Your Rose._"

Now that, that was definitely worth all of this. She probably wrote "Love from" because that was how she always signed letters, but still. She'd also written "Your Rose," like she was acknowledging what he'd been wishing to tell her all along, that he wanted her to stay with him, be with him, keep him for herself.

It was persistently two-sided, this possessive streak of his. Every single time it occurred to him, whenever it came up, it insisted not only that she was his, but that he was hers.

Over his lifetime, no one had ever been particularly willing to keep him. Uncle Alistair and Aunt Doris, yes, but the others in his life...

Everyone always left him, and no one ever would or could stay. He had the flat in London, but it wasn't really his home. He had a room at the country Estate but, while it felt closer to home, it still wasn't his. He'd learned from watching his Aunt and Uncle, from watching others, that a home was more the people in it than the place itself.

If that was the case, then Rose was the closest thing to a home he'd had in as long as he could remember. He would fight for that, would do anything he could to become home for her.

He looked back at the card. "_PS:_" it continued, "_Wilson took the photo for you. Said it was to say 'sorry' but I don't know what for. He asked me to wish you luck, though._"

He grinned. Yeah, Wilson owed him an apology, at least a little bit. He'd caused a misunderstanding that'd very nearly ruined his chances before he knew he had any.

The very last line, crammed on the bottom of the page, led him back to that miraculous moment, which he'd only later recognized for what it truly was, the moment that Rose reached for him, only him, with both hands. "_PSS: Whatever happens, just breathe._"

* * *

Bill's voice was like nothing Joshua had ever experienced in his life. It had been bad enough in group, but one-to-one, Joshua was willing to consider that there was a lucrative career for the little psychiatrist in professional torture, if he wanted to take it up.

It wasn't an unpleasant voice, quite the contrary, in fact. It was a soft, gentle, careful thing, but somehow the quietness of it, the rhythm and cadence, the timbre, all added together to the aural equivalent of Chinese water torture, a sound designed to drive the listener completely insane without their noticing. It was hypnotic, and every neuron in Joshua's skull fired constant protest to its effect.

Reminded Joshua of someone, really, but he couldn't remember who. Started with a K, maybe. Or was it an M?

After the unpleasant Group session, Joshua had become aware that this facility, while admirably equipped to deal with most addicts and their attached difficulties, was completely out of their depth with someone like him. Just Bill's face in response to Joshua's unwitting confessions of earlier had been enough of a clue to let him in on that fact. He was an anomaly in their experience, but he had been one all his life.

If poor Harry hadn't spent half his medical career getting a handle on Joshua's odd physiology, he was willing to admit that he'd probably have been dissected by now. He spared a moment, while Bill filled in some form or other, to chide himself for giving up so soon.

Harry had learned, and maybe Bill could, too.

The little, bearded psychiatrist peered at Joshua over his notes. "According to Dr. Sullivan's report, you experience frequent night terrors. Would you like to begin with that?"

"Now, we both know that the effect of night terrors is that the patient can't recall what it is he dreams about. I'm no different in that regard."

"That's true, Joshua. May I call you Joshua, or do you prefer Mr. Stewart?"

"I expect you will, call me Joshua, I mean. For the record, though, it's Dr. Stewart or Major Stewart, not Mr. Stewart and not, incidentally, Josh."

"Your titles are important to you?" It was phrased as a question, but it sounded like an observation, and certainly Bill made some sort of note as he asked.

"Worked hard for 'em. Seems only right I take some pride in 'em."

"That's very true. What is your Doctorate in?"

Joshua shrugged. "Linguistics and literature. Not a medical degree, I admit."

"You like literature?" Trying to be friendly, Bill gave him the tiniest smile. There was still too much sympathy in that expression.

"I'm a poet," Joshua confessed, ruefully. "Yeah, I know I don't look like one, ya don't have to tell me."

"I'd certainly never presume to state how an artist is required to appear. Does it bother you? Your appearance?"

Joshua blinked. As a matter of fact... his appearance was... "No," he said, as a land mine and a wall manifested themselves in his head. He'd have to take a look at them, later. "Not sure I care for being forty, but who does?"

"Why is that a concern?" Bill asked.

The look in Hendy's eyes told Joshua that the man thought he'd hit a goldmine of information. Because he had seen Rose, Joshua quickly concluded, and despite, or ironically because of, his training, made assumptions about their relationship. He wasn't supposed to be treating this like a chess game but, damn it all, it suddenly felt like one, and a good one, with a reasonably clever opponent.

He used to beat the computers at chess. The pink shirt poof didn't stand a chance. "You know, getting old. Nothing major."

Bill looked marvelously defeated, but he covered well.

Check, Joshua thought cheerfully.

"I see," said Bill, and went back to his notes. "And your records state that you were in the military."

"They'll also state, then, that my work is top secret and can't be discussed without orders from the Queen." Not that Joshua would have discussed it, anyway. He wasn't in the mood to be sectioned on top of all this.

"I wasn't interested in your work so much as your feelings toward your career."

"Former career," Joshua corrected, firmly. "I'm retired."

"Do you enjoy being retired, or do you miss your work?"

"Yes," Joshua answered, fighting off the grin by remembering that Bill didn't need to know they were playing a game just yet.

"So mixed feelings, then?" Bill concluded.

Ouch. Nice gambit from Bill.

"It's complicated." Joshua stood up, rude though he considered it might be, and paced. Still was not a position he could be kept in easily. The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could chatter on about his past a lot and it would not help, since that seemed only likely to reopen wounds he'd long since learnt to heal or work around, or he could say nothing and leave the little psychiatrist with an attitude to go with the frustrated terrier look on his face.

Third option, then, one he'd forgotten about, old habit he'd thought he'd broken, but maybe not. He could talk, technically, for days, about absolutely nothing.

So he talked.


	29. Chapter 28

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. OV and Liz planned to spend the week torturing the Doctor until he signed by playing rap music non-stop. Unfortunately, Jessa tried to kill everyone in the room before ten minutes were up. OV had to hold her down while trying to turn off the CD player with her nose.**

**Please note**: This fic carries an M rating for a **_lot_** of _very_ good reasons. Yes, this **IS** a warning.

* * *

**Chapter 28:**

When Joshua got back to his room after conditioning Bill to a Pavlovian cringe response to the sound of a Northern accent, he was completely delighted to find that his roommate was on the phone. Joshua snatched his own mobile, shook his head at the entirely too personal conversation he was inadvertently overhearing, and strode out in search of a modicum of privacy. He decided he'd leave Son a note just to give him the hint that the ears weren't the only reason Joshua could overhear everything.

Who knew? Maybe they could hold conversations in Chinese and drive the staff mad.

He slipped into the common room and found a large assortment of conversations taking place there as well, everything from the young punk rock-star bawling out his agent to Sherry sobbing at, apparently, her ex.

He went out the back door, strode across the grounds, found a likely looking tree, and hoisted himself up into the spreading branches. When he was very young, he used to climb this one particular tree behind the House he'd stayed in and watch the moon rise. Something in the light had always made that tree look silver, if he remembered.

He shook that from his head and settled onto a branch, leaning back against the trunk, and pushing the top number on his speed dial. In a very few moments, Rose answered, and everything was almost all right again.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, and then she asked, slowly, as if afraid he wouldn't answer, "What's it like there?"

He grinned. "Can't believe I'm paying for this. Shoulda just joined back up, the place is like barracks. Not the Officer's Quarters, either, mind."

"Oh, dear, that doesn't sound good."

He could just imagine her chewing on that lip and trying to hide a little grin. It warmed him right up. "Nah, s'fine. Uncle Alistair would love the paint, it'd bring back such fond memories. HQ was a dump, too, when they first set us up in it."

Now, she went ahead and laughed. "That's terrible."

"Ya get used to it," he said with a shrug. "I have a roommate called Son. He speaks Chinese and is currently having an argument with his daughter over something I have no desire to understand. So I came outside. Grounds are pretty, at least."

"They looked like they might be."

"Better view where you are, though," he added.

She snorted. "Dunno 'bout that, I'm on the bus."

"I mean it'd be a better view for me if I were where you are," he said, gently.

"Oh."

He loved the way her voice got that startled little gasp when he said the right thing. Would be better if he could see her pleased smile, though. Still, soon enough he'd come back to her.

"How's the headache?" she asked.

"Surprisingly gone, actually. Think Harry's tapering me off did the trick, you know?"

They talked enthusiastically about nothing in particular after that. He loved these conversations that soared and wandered and meandered all over the place. Rose seemed to enjoy them as much as he did, laughing at his quips, tossing lightning-fast clever rejoinders that even he wouldn't have believed her capable of when this whole thing started. She really was brilliant, his Rose.

When he told her he only had about two hours and they were almost up, she sighed and told him to call her the next time he had a chance.

"I'll call you every single day, Rose Tyler. Every time they let me have my mobile." He paused, considered. "If... you don't mind, do you?"

"Mind? Oh, Joshua, I love it when you call."

He grinned, satisfied. "Fantastic!" he announced.

* * *

Jackie Tyler didn't know what she'd expected from her daughter while _that man_ was in rehab, but she was fairly certain this wasn't it. Or maybe it was, since any expectations she'd had were vague at best. But, either way, she didn't like it.

"And every night," she told Bev over a tumbler of gin, "she comes home, already on the phone to him."

"You should take it away. Gotta be running up a monstrous bill. Tell her it'll teach her responsibility or some such."

"Can't." Jackie returned morosely. "Got a new one after she got that job. S'giving her airs and graces, that shop is. But she pays her own bill. Even paid mine, once."

"Well, that's nice," Bev tried.

"I'd rather have a reason to keep her away from him and let this infatuation end than not pay a mobile bill," Jackie said bitterly, draining the glass before her. Bev stood and stretched.

"Lemme get us another, and you can tell me what she sees in 'im. Girl her age, I dunno..."

Bev's voice trailed off, but Jackie suspected she was still carrying on the conversation even as she walked away from it. They were, neither one of them, entirely steady on their feet anymore.

Jackie glanced darkly around the room. There was a group crowded around the bar, keeping Jenny quite busy. Bev was elbowing her way to the front. Everyone ought to know that the regulars had dibs here, and certainly that it wasn't wise to get between Jackie or Bev and their next round.

A new face caught her eye. He was young, not yet thirty, with spiky brown hair and green eyes. He also had a kind smile. Jackie knew this because he was currently smiling at her. She returned the smile with satisfaction.

Bev came back quickly, bearing fresh drinks, returning the harsh looks and words that came from those who she'd forced to wait longer for their drinks. Not one of them had any sense if they thought yelling was gonna keep Bev from doing what she wanted, honestly. No matter how mad this place got on Friday nights, anyone who'd ever been here before could tell them that.

The strange young man looked Jackie over, slowly, sipped his drink, licked his lips. Jackie smirked.

"So, tell me," Bev said, handing Jackie a new glass, "why do you hate him so much?" Jackie looked at her friend and then back to the stranger with beguiling eyes.

"You know what, Bev?" Jackie stood slightly unsteadily and downed her drink. "I don't even wanna think about him. I'll call you tomorrow." With that, she saunter-stumbled over to where the young man was waiting.

* * *

Calling hours were over. Even though Rose knew it would be quite sometime until Joshua slept, the hospital wouldn't allow them to continue to talk.

Alright, that wasn't fair, and Rose knew it. Joshua needed to try to get some sleep, and his roommate doubtless didn't share his insomnia. But she didn't want to hang up. Couldn't they understand that? She stared at the dark screen of her mobile before tapping it restlessly against the palm of her hand. Sighing heavily, Rose stood, her mind weary and blank, as though it had been switched off when her phone was.

The doorknob clicked skittishly in its socket as a hand, unsteady as a tightrope walker with an inner-ear infection, tried to grasp it. Rose stared as her mother stumbled, laughingly, in. The bloke Jackie was wrapped around couldn't be much older than Rose herself was. Rose didn't really want to know what some of the men Jackie brought home saw in her, but she did wish whatever it was would quit.

They breezed past Rose without noticing her, the smell of alcohol following them like an evil omen. Rose felt ill. When they began to make out on the couch, Rose found where her voice had secreted itself into protective custody and hauled it forward to testify.

"Mum, d'you mind?" she cried. The pair on the couch broke apart. Jackie had the nerve to smile at her.

"Hello, love," Jackie said happily. "Didn't know you were still up. This here is Evan. See you in the morning." Obviously, she expected Rose to totter off, but something in her balked.

"I can't believe you! Joshua's gone for six weeks and you decide to bring home someone barely older'n me and rub my face in it? Talk about being a hypocrite; he could be my brother and you call Joshua a pervert!" Jackie may have tried to say something, but Rose was too angry to stop and listen. "And in the living room? You know, I'm gonna have to look at that sofa tomorrow. Why can't you go to your room, or, better yet, his place!"

Rose had done a good job of keeping Jackie quiet as long as she had, but nothing could hold back her mum when under attack. Jackie stood, glowering at her daughter.

"How dare you!" she began. Self-righteous indignation poured off her in a preposterous deluge. "I find someone willing to pay me a little attention, and you try to make it about you, make it bad. I sacrificed a lot raising you. The only reason I haven't had a proper boyfriend since your dad died is because I was too busy taking care of you!"

"No, Mum, don't kid yourself. The reason you haven't had a proper boyfriend is because you couldn't keep one! You paraded this string of men in front of me and never had one more'n a month. Don't you dare put that on me!" Rose spun away angrily, unable to even look at her mother. "You know what? Go ahead and have your little tryst on the couch. I won't stay here and spoil the mood." She pivoted on her heel, her hands clenched into fists, and stormed out the front door, making sure to slam it hard behind her.

She wasn't immediately sure what refuge she could seek. She glanced down at the mobile still clutched in her hand and forced herself to relax her grip. Oh, she wanted to call Joshua. This would all be better if she could hear his voice. She needed his arms to wrap their cool strength around her. She tried to rub some of the tension out of her neck, and her fingers caught on a chain.

Rose knew where she was going to go.

* * *

The flat was dark and still. The air hadn't become stale yet, because the a/c kept it circulating, but it gave the impression of a forest in winter, waiting for life and warmth to return. A flicked switch brought light and evidence of the life that had inhabited this cell.

Rose surveyed the mess that had been left. Joshua had likely forgotten it. She didn't blame him; he'd had more important things to worry about. They'd been too concerned about making arrangements for the few minutes they'd been here the last time, after the night he'd ended up going home with her, the last night he'd darkened the door of the pub. John had been the one to get his things from here for him and John always seemed unwilling to move a single thing that belonged to Joshua unless he was specifically asked.

Outrage and fury gave way to restlessness and pain. She also felt a bit useless, but she wasn't about to admit to that. In fact, she wasn't going to allow it. Her spine stiffened a little at that thought. There was plenty she could do, and a challenge lay before her.

It would do Joshua no good to come back to his flat and have a chaotic reminder of what he was trying to leave behind him. She set to with a will, righting chairs, returning cushions to the sofa, stacking books that should be returned to the shelves. Since she didn't know his organization scheme, she placed them in neat piles on the coffee table. She reassembled the book case - it was just all the shelves were off. She found the remote to the telly in an odd vase by the corner of the sofa. She found the picture of him with his aunt and uncle face down under the edge of the sofa, along with a mangled packet of crisps and, oddly enough, an empty butter dish.

The kitchen was the textbook definition of mess, counters smeared with jelly and strewn with parts from a…blender? Well, whatever appliance it had once been, it was scrap metal now. She may not be an engineer, but she knew that gears weren't supposed to be bent like that. The toaster was, inexplicably, in the middle of the floor. There were more empty whiskey bottles than she liked to count sitting out on the table, so she black-bagged them all and set them out for the collection. A furious energy had overtaken her, and the room was soon ready to appear in a housekeeping magazine.

The piano room only required some papers to be straightened. There she found more drawings, of landscapes and flowers and some sort of Escher-esque box.

The bedroom didn't seem to need any help.

It was the bathroom that floored her. Nothing was out of place, particularly, although there was a flannel glued by dried soap to the middle of the floor. The mirror was what got her. A list of twenty things was scrawled across it in magic marker, labeled in the same square lettering he used on the sheet music all those weeks ago, "Reasons to Quit Drinking". It took her a moment to realize that Joshua's handwriting was easier to read with practice.

Wilson had been right, if this list was anything to go by. Her name was five of the reasons, all by itself, the last time in oversized capital letters. She was mentioned, directly or otherwise, another five times.

Unable to decide whether or not he would want her to erase it, Rose left the room, determined to call Doris the next day. The novelty of the list and the wonder it inspired carried her through the motions of changing into a pair of his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt from his drawers, deciding she would do some laundry for him before he came back so he wouldn't be put out. There was no way she was going home tonight. She curled up on the edge of the bed, surprised by how very faint the smell of him was on the sheets. He had likely washed them not long before leaving. Her body was exhausted from labor, her soul lacerated by her mother's cutting words, but her mind kept running.

Quickly, the fears rushed in. The mirror meant nothing because everything could change. And he was gone, so very far away, and she needed him. He would learn, while in Springwood, that he didn't need her. Didn't need anyone.

Her sobs sounded softly through the apartment, pattering down the hall, strumming along the piano strings, bouncing off the tiles of the kitchen and echoing in the bathroom where they audibly defied the list that tried to burn through them, reading:

1. Rose

2. Stop seeing double. One annoyed Harry or John is too many.

3. Can show Rose the stars better if I can see which is which.

4. Stop being sick all the time.

5. Because it isn't attractive. And doesn't feel good, either.

6. Rose

7. Not very manly to be sobbing in my whiskey all the time.

8. Nor is it attractive.

9. Rose

10. It would make Aunt Doris and Uncle Alistair feel better.

11. Slim possibility of dreams making some sense if clear-headed when awakened by them.

12. Or not, but maybe there'd be less if I didn't pass out as much.

13. Rose likes to dance.

14. Balance is better, for dancing and etc., when sober.

15. Rose

16. Losing memories I want to keep, too.

17. Hangover headache feels like my brain's being pushed through a sieve.

18. Kublah Khan is not Coleridge's best work, as I might have mentioned.

19. Stop having conversations with laptop. Or not, but there might be fewer witnesses.

20. ROSE

Though the list proved ineffective, eventually sleep stopped her tears.

* * *

A light pierced the darkness, carving its message into Rose's brain. It was three in the morning. She'd spent hours cleaning the flat after the argument with her mum, but Rose still couldn't sleep. She'd only been asleep for half an hour when she woke again. While dreaming, she'd found and burrowed into the place where Joshua usually slept. He must sleep in the same spot each night, which was why she hadn't been able to smell him well before.

Now, he seemed to surround her. Each breath brought him inside her even as it accentuated his absence. He soothed her senses even as he thrummed her mind into a state of almost frenzied alertness. Which was why she was awake now, glaring at the display screen that told her she'd barely fallen asleep before waking again.

Joshua's scent had fuelled a dream that had shoved her into wakefulness, aroused. She lay where he did, needing sleep, needing peace, needing _him_. Putting the phone back on the bedside table, Rose rolled onto her back, shifting restlessly but still smothered with him.

She tried to capture that feeling of tiredness from before and drag it into her brain, but it dodged her every trap. Her body and mind were brought alive by his presence. Without thinking, her hand started tracing circles on her stomach, spiraling downwards. She became aware of it only when her fingers met the waist band of the borrowed sleep pants. She stopped and flushed with embarrassment. It was probably a bad thing to do, but she needed this. No, she needed him, but this would have to tide her over, like CPR until she could be hooked up to life support.

Resolving to wash his sheets before he came home, Rose took a deep breath, filling her lungs with him, and plunged her fingers down into her knickers. She teased her finger along what corny romance novels called "nether lips." The dream which had begun this had left her damp, so she dipped her fingers in for lubrication and began to rub her clit.

Soft strokes along its length became short flicks across the base as calm breathing gave way to panting. This was not about love, or want, or sex; it wasn't even about need. This was about release. Rose needed to be released from the loss and the pain and the fear and the emptiness.

So there was nothing gentle in her touch. One hand mercilessly toyed with her clit while the other pinched and pulled and tweaked her nipples before skimming down her stomach, sliding along the sensitive skin of her thighs and driving two fingers into her opening. She twisted her fingers as she thrust, never allowing her nerve endings to become accustomed to a pattern, seeking the oblivion that would come with release. Her other hand was now circling her clit savagely with the pad of her middle finger.

Rose forced her oxygen seeking lungs to allow her to breathe in deeply the air that was redolent of his scent. She came quietly.

"Joshua," she whispered as her hips arched off the bed, her muscles at last shedding their tension. For a moment, she thought he was with her, bringing peace. "I love you," she told his phantom before slipping into hard earned oblivion.


	30. Chapter 29

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We let in a ravening horde of screaming fan-girls and sent the Doctor to placate them with autographs. He was half-way through the "D" before he realized they weren't holding photos or autograph books, but copies of our contract. SO close...**

Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 29:**

Arts and crafts. Never before had Joshua believed that two reasonably pleasant words, in any language, could be converted so effortlessly into a portent of doom. He would never doubt again.

"How grade school is this, then?" muttered the young punk rocker next to him, a boy barely older than Rose. His real name was Alan, but he only answered to Zed. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Either way, the cocaine had done a real number on his physiology, leaving the boy with the waxy, stupefied look of the unwillingly risen dead. Or maybe that was deliberate; Joshua couldn't be entirely sure, given the vast array of death symbols in the tattoos all over the boy's bare arms and legs.

"Think this may be nursery school, actually," Joshua murmured.

The cheerful little frosted ginger in the pink sports coat who was supposedly leading this so-called therapy session had the sort of voice one expects to come out of celebrities selling toothpaste. When she announced they were to be making a trivet, Joshua thought it might be reasonable, at least. Mosaic work, or ceramics. He could survive that.

When she produced piles of popsicle sticks and photocopied diagrams, he was almost certain at least one of his hearts had stopped, possibly both of them. He choked a bit and Alan watched him with fascination, probably hoping he'd keel over on the spot so he could question him about the after life when they resuscitated him.

"Fish trivets," Bubbles (he'd decided to name the instructor Bubbles because she hadn't introduced herself in her giddy excitement) exclaimed enthusiastically.

Joshua caught Son's eye from the next table and, all at once, this whole idea was suddenly hilarious. Even John would laugh at this, and John could give Mount Rushmore pointers on straight faces. "Doesn't look like a fish to me," he murmured. "Looks more like a Tereleptil."

"What's a terror-reptile?" asked Alan in a strangely incurious voice. He was probably upset that Joshua hadn't even done him the courtesy of failing to breathe.

"Never mind," he answered. Then, he raised his voice to be sure he could be heard. "'Scuse me, miss, but you do know these things won't diffuse heat properly, right?"

"Sorry, what was that?" she said.

"Heat. You can't put a hot anything on these, they'll burn."

"I'm sure everything will be fine," she replied, somewhat deflated. She regained her enthusiasm passing out brightly colored paints and bottles of glue.

Joshua reached over and opened one of the paint bottles. The smell immediately hit his sensitive nose and he recoiled from it, startled. Right. So, she'd just given a chemical based paint to a bunch of people with various types of chemical dependency. He sighed, took the smallest brush he could lay hands on, and started painting tiny pictures on the ends of his popsicle sticks. It took a lot of concentration, but he didn't want to pay any attention to what was actually going on, anyway. He'd gotten a good collection of minute landscapes going before Bubbles stopped by to check on his progress.

"You're not even trying to assemble your fish," she said, and the simpering quality of her voice set his teeth on edge.

Still, he managed to remain calm. "I'm decorating first," he grumbled.

She let it go and he went back to painting thumbnail sized pictures on the ends of his popsicle sticks. He supposed they'd make decent book marks and tried to concentrate on making them look good. He used one of the sticks as a palette and mixed up tiny quantities of the shades he would need, wondering what was supposed to be therapeutic about wasting time he could be using to run off excess energy or read a book or, at this rate, write a couple of them.

The next picture ended up being, of course, a tiny, stylized portrait of Rose's face, surrounded by soft yellow petals. He smiled at it, resolved to work with it a bit until it looked exactly right, and give it to her. He set it down to let it dry a bit and leaned back to watch the maintenance workers across the room change a couple of the florescent lights in the banks where they'd dropped below two of three lights working.

There was nothing particularly interesting about them, but he figured his over-sized ears were probably rolling more of the prophesied steam than anyone else's in the room, so his fellow addicts were less interesting at the moment. One of them dropped the spent light he'd been removing and the man snatched at it, hands closing over the very end. Good reflexes, Joshua thought, and looked up at his face.

He was arrested by those eyes, startled into narrowing his own in concentration. After all, it wasn't every day you saw reptilian eyes on a human maintenance worker.

The man's partner snapped something Joshua didn't quite catch at him, and the man blinked. When he opened his eyes, they were completely normal.

Joshua shook his head and decided to write it off as paint fumes. He was probably just imagining the alien cast to the man's countenance. After all, even he didn't find aliens in every hedge and furrow.

At least not any more. It was probably just because of those mixed feelings Bill had tried to pry out of him twice already this week.

Bubbles came back again, and this time she put her hands on her hips, doing a remarkable impression of a fifties sitcom mum. Joshua scowled forbiddingly up at her.

"You really should be working on your trivet, you know," she said.

He stood up. "No, I shouldn't," he said, coldly, "and neither should anyone else. Ya can't put these things under something, they're too thin. Set the table on fire, if you tried, this lot, and the paint's flammable, too. If I wanted a trivet shaped like a fish, I'd need something a bit more round in some places, and frankly, lady, I'm not a stupid ape, I know the Laws of Thermodynamics, and I don't have to play nice if I don't want ta do."

He snatched up the one little stick and turned away, before he remembered and turned back. "And ya might want to count the paint pots before you let this lot go." He nodded in grim satisfaction as he caught several guilty flinches out the corners of his eyes.

Turning away from her expression of utter astonishment, he passed a quick glower over Alan's eviscerated fish corpse trivet, rolled his eyes, and stalked off in high dudgeon.

* * *

Joshua took off running the minute he left the building. He figured he'd run until he didn't feel like screaming or until he wasn't so tempted to jump the hedge, whichever came first. While he ran, an idea occurred to him, so he called Aunt Doris and begged for chocolate biscuits.

She cheered him up quite a bit so, when he rang off, he fell into the running as a serious exercise, not just an escape. Bill joined him pretty much five minutes after he expected the little psychiatrist to turn up.

Bill followed him around the building once before he spoke. "What was all that about?" he asked, his usual mild tones slightly distorted by breathing harder.

Joshua snorted. "I may be a drunk, but I was never, ever drunk enough to put up with that sort of thing."

"Miss Carstairs is new," Bill replied and Joshua thought there might even be a bit of an apology in that.

"I suppose Miss Carstairs has a degree in special education, as well. Miss Carstairs is wasting her time and her talents on me. Give it up."

"What is this really about, Joshua? Is there something specifically bothering you?"

Joshua stopped running and turned to stare at the little man. He knew his face was probably the very picture of astonishment. "You've got all sorts of information on me in that office of yours, Bill. Are ya trying to tell me that not one of those papers mentioned anything about, 'Does not suffer fools gladly' or at least, 'Does not play well with others'?"

"You're an intelligent man, Joshua, but..."

"No, Bill. You're an intelligent man. I'm a genius. There's a big difference."

"Are you bored?" Bill offered.

Joshua thought about it. "You know what? Yeah, I am."

"Give me a day or so and I'll see if I can't find something to entertain you a bit more. But, Joshua, asocial behavior isn't going to be tolerated."

Joshua glared at him. "That wasn't asocial behavior for me, Bill. You haven't ever seen me behave badly but believe me, you'll know when I do."

"I won't respond to threats, Joshua," Bill cautioned in a vaguely indifferent tone.

Joshua shook his head. "But you expect that I will. Interesting. Think I'm gonna head back to my room, get a shower, give transcendental meditation a go or something."

"It's very relaxing," Bill offered agreeably. "Just a word of caution. You're not meant to be on your mobile outside of calling hours. I'm not making this an official warning, but you only get two of those before we rescind your privileges."

Joshua stalked off, tossing an, "over my dead body," behind him as he went.

* * *

If anyone had asked, if anyone had bothered, Joshua would have probably, at this point, admitted that he hadn't slept in days. Well, Bill had asked, but Bill wasn't anyone. Bill was an annoying little badger-faced twit in a fancy suit. Bill was too busy defending the rights of pink lunatics to inflict their overly-cheerful degradations on others, he supposed. Shame the bugger was, if the wedding ring was anything to go by, married, or Joshua would have cheerfully set Jackie on him. Jackie's pink track suit would match Bill's grey and pink color scheme admirably.

Besides, Bill hadn't asked the relevant question. "How are you feeling?" would have worked, as would, "Is everything all right?" or "Noticed you haven't woken your roommate up with your screaming nightmares since the first night you were here, what's up with that?"

It was unnerving, frustrating, humiliating. He knew from long experience that he could, without a pronounced loss of efficiency, go without sleep for extended periods of time. The problem was, he'd spent months doing extreme damage to his body and his brain and he needed to rest if he was going to recover from that.

He knew he would have no chance of sleeping so peacefully here as he did with Rose in his arms. Still, were a few hours of oblivion before the dreams ripped through his psyche too much to ask? He could sleep in his room, it was possible, but to do so would result in causing another distress. So for the past several nights, he had huddled, wakeful, in his bed and thought and chased the ghosts in his head.

He still couldn't even explain the damned dreams. Bill's diagnosis of PTSD, which he'd privately greeted with a scornful, "No shit, really?" went a long way to explain why they happened, but it didn't tell him one thing about where they'd come from or what to do to make them go away.

Something in him suggested that they'd haunt him until he was dead.

* * *

Sherry came up to him in the Lounge after lunch, just dropped down on the arm of the recliner he was brooding in and smiled at him. He stifled a sigh and looked up at her. "Something I can help you with?" he asked, as politely as he could manage.

"Think I might can help you, actually," she said ever so quietly. "Got a moment for a walk?"

Joshua loomed, rather reluctantly, to his feet, and loped, aggressively, out onto the grounds after her.

She found a quiet corner, out of sight of anyone, and that made him nervous. He swore silently to himself that if she made a move on him, he was going to jump that hedge.

What she did was actually worse.

She reached into a pocket and pulled out a hip flask, shaking it invitingly. He stared at it, couldn't take his eyes off it. The sound of liquid oblivion skittered over his ears.

He could down that whole flask in one gulp. It would take the edge off. He wouldn't have to think about the mad, incessant craving, because he could give in to it, drown it out, quit thinking about how much he wanted a drink because he would have one. "Where... where'd you get it?" he wondered, surprised at how gravelled and strained his voice sounded. His hands were clenching, one into a fist, the other reaching, trembling, toward the flask in her hand.

"Want some?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," he admitted.

Oh, he wanted that flask, wanted it like he wanted sleep right now, wanted it like he wanted hope, like he wanted peace, like he wanted...

Rose's face swam into his mind, small and strong and more beautiful than any temptation any one could ever offer him. He was better than this, she had promised him he was, and he believed in her. She might not be here, but the memory of what awaited him, a home, a chance, a future with his shining, fantastic, precious girl, that memory could stand as a shield between him and any tawdry, momentary relief the alcohol might offer.

He had made up his mind, made his choice. He always, always did what he planned to do, and this time he planned to make himself better for his Rose. No backsliding, no hypocrisy, just a single, definitive goal, and he had bound himself to it.

"Put it away," he ordered. "I don't want to know where you got it, I don't want to know anything about it. But don't let me see it again, because I won't be friendly about it a second time. I don't need it, Sherry, and neither do you, and you need to realize that, but it's not my place." He took a deep breath, turned, and stalked off.

It was the hardest thing he had done in a long, long time.

* * *

The phone call that night was longer than ever before and he spent quite a lot of it just listening to her talk, absorbing the comforting sound of her voice.

There was something wrong. She sounded so sad, so worried, so tired. He was afraid that something had gone wrong at work, so he asked her about it, but she reassured him that it was business as usual - five days of annoyance every week.

Her mum, she said, was on a bender, had been drinking every night for the past three days, but she wasn't particularly bothered by it, as it wasn't one of Jackie's fall-down-drunk binges this time. And though Rose didn't sound convinced, she also didn't sound completely hopeless, so he didn't worry about that.

But something was bothering her, he could tell. He got more worried about her, more agitated, more - if he was honest with himself - afraid for her. Had something happened? Someone had hurt her or scared her, or...

Doubts began to creep in. What if she didn't want to talk about it because she didn't want to talk to him? He firmly told himself that was stupid. She had said she would wait for him.

"I just..." she started to say, and then came the receptionist's voice over the loud speaker that calling hours were over and lights out was in an hour. He growled disdainfully in its general direction and settled more firmly in his chair, planning to pretty much dare them to take his phone.

"I don't want to get you in trouble," she insisted.

"It's fine, Rose. I'm an adult and an insomniac, they can't just up and give me a bed time and expect me to follow it. What were you saying?"

"Nothing, Joshua, it's fine, don't worry about me. You just take care of yourself, promise?"

"I am Rose, I'm fine. I just want to know that you're ok. I... you're important to me, you're what matters to me, if you're hurt or..."

An orderly was standing over him all of the sudden and he glared at the man, gesturing rudely for him to shove off.

"Seriously, Joshua, I'm ok. Don't worry about me - you're supposed to be looking after yourself, getting rest, getting better. Please just tell me you'll look after yourself and not worry about me."

"I... all right, Rose, if that's what you want. Just... you'll tell me if something's bothering you, won't you?"

"I... you know I will, Joshua. You don't have to be so worried about a little shop girl right now, just..."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked. "I want to talk to you, talk about things that are bothering you. I want..."

The orderly made a gesture to tell him to cut off the call.

"Joshua," Rose said softly, "get some rest. Call me tomorrow, soon as you can. I lo..."

"Time's up, sir!" the orderly announced loudly.

Joshua saw red. "So it is," he muttered. "Good night, Rose. Sleep well and I'll call you tomorrow afternoon."

He rang off and rose from his seat, very nearly blind with fury. He was forty years old and more responsible than anyone else in this place, obviously, if Sherry was running around with hip flasks and Miss Carstairs was giving chemical paint and glue to druggies and Bill was more worried about his staff being respected than them being corrected for abject stupidity. He'd done everything they asked of him, as far as he was able. He'd listened to Bill, he'd behaved in groups all week, he'd tried to participate, he'd stayed awake to keep everyone from being woken by his screaming night terrors. All he'd asked was to be allowed to finish his conversation with the girl who was his life line and his sanity.

And she had almost said it, he was sure of it, those three little words that it felt like he'd been waiting a lot longer than a mere lifetime to hear. Centuries, maybe, ages.

"Never do that again," he roared and, grateful for his steel-toed boots, he kicked the chair he'd been in, rather satisfied to see the heavy recliner turn over from the force of the blow.

"Now, sir, you need to calm down."

"No, I don't," he countered. "I am calm, see, completely calm, me." He stalked across the room and, as a pack of orderlies descended on him, he made his point with a fist to the plate glass window next to the door.

It shattered. Held together by wire inside it, no glass went anywhere, but the orderlies picked that moment to try to grab him. He dodged the lot of them and darted back the way he'd come, leaving them standing there trying to figure out where he'd got to and, from the looks on their faces, how he'd done it.

He turned to stalk back out onto the grounds, but Bill was rather suddenly in his way and, although Joshua currently hated the little wanker, he didn't want to hurt him, either. "What?" he ground out.

"Do you want us to sedate you, Joshua?" he asked, rhetorically. He had a nurse handy, it looked like.

Joshua deflated. If the drug worked, there was no telling what it would do to him, and if it didn't work, they would want to know why. There'd be questions, and this place - subjecting himself to this place had been enough of a surrender of his privacy without having one of the physicians here get the idea that he might need to be taken to bits. "No," he said, defeated.

"All right," Bill surrendered. "Then I hope you'll go quietly with these gentlemen. I think you need a night in Isolation."

Joshua decided not to tell Bill that the psychiatrist had just, effectively, rewarded his bad behavior with exactly what he wanted.


	31. Chapter 30

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We tried to get rid of the fan girls from last week, but they wouldn't go.  So we sent Jack out on the roof and told them all he'd be naked and they could ogle all they liked.  We THOUGHT we were exaggerating.  Not sure how that happened, but the Doctor said something about setting 8469...  We might be a bit too busy to get those papers signed this week.**

Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 30:**

Friday night was apparently the best night to get chucked into Isolation, even if it was a mattress on the floor. Joshua was awakened by a nurse at ten on Saturday morning, told that Greg (who was, among other things, the Chaplain) was the counselor who would see him, but it would have to be later, as there'd been an emergency on the other side of the hospital. Apparently, the adolescents were trying to stage a coup. Or maybe someone was streaking, Joshua really wasn't paying all that much attention. All in all, he was having a good morning.

He had dreamed of Rose instead of creeping things that lurked in shadows. He got a shower on the Isolation ward and, ok, he had to set the temperature to something just above zero to clear out the physiological effects of the dreams, but they were nice dreams, fantastic dreams, and he preferred cold showers to unnamed horrors any day. They'd brought him a change of clothes - he was easy enough to get on with in that regard - and he reclaimed his leather jacket at the desk.

He could tell from the fact that he didn't get even one strange look that no one had bothered to search it. Worrying as that might be when looking at the security of the rehab, it was a good thing, seeing as how there was no telling what might come out of his pockets if they did. He pulled out a banana and saluted them with it, grinning at the shocked look on one nurse's face, then walked back toward his room.

The good mood evaporated pretty much as he was walking past the common room. He was going to be up his tree again next time he talked to Rose, he decided, as he watched the maintenance crew replacing the glass he'd smashed last night.

"Chief wanted to know which one of them did it," one of the two maintenance workers said to the others. There were four in all, including one of the two he'd watched changing light bulbs the other night.

One of the others didn't seem to care, as he was swearing softly and his hand was covered in a viscous blue fluid. The one who seemed to be putting strips of tape across the glass said, "What difference does it make? He probably had to be taken off for broken knuckles."

Joshua flexed his hand and noted that, while there was a bit of swelling, there was little pain and, definitely, nothing broken, not even the skin. He shrugged it off as adrenaline.

"Chief just wanted to know," said the only one who hadn't spoken before. "Said you two have to find out."

"Tell 'er to find out 'erself," grumbled the one with the tape.

The others had a bit of a laugh about that.

Joshua tried to shrug the whole thing off, but something, and he couldn't place exactly what, was starting to bother him. He got to his room, resolving to make a few notes, but the whole situation was driven out of his mind completely by the sight that greeted him.

"So, let me get this straight," Son said as Joshua entered. Son and Jamal, a former boxer and therefore kindred spirit of Son's, were examining, (or, he thought, drooling over) the framed picture of Rose that Aunt Doris had given him. Joshua swiped it from them as he approached his bed and flopped onto it. He glared at both of the men as Son continued his discourse, unaffected. "_She_ is with you?"

Joshua turned the glare up a few notches and began to wipe their fingerprints from the glass with the sleeve of his jumper. His gaze fell on her as he examined his work and softened. "Yeah," he said, and couldn't keep the awe of this from his voice if he tried.

Jamal who, among other problems, suffered from Aspergers, spoke bluntly as usual. "So, what's wrong with her?"

Joshua's head slammed up. His eyes blazed, but he held his temper in check. "Nothing. She's perfect." He paused before admitting, "She's too good for me."

"Don't we know it," Son muttered.

"So…what?" Jamal insisted, his head perched to the side. "She's stupid?"

"No, she's far more clever than she gives herself credit for. Half the time I don't think she even realizes how gorgeous she is."

"So, you got her drunk one night and wowed her with your mad skills?" Jamal was getting on Joshua's nerves.

"No," he said sternly. "Not that it's any of your business, but we haven't... danced."

"There goes the preggers theory," Son said casually. "Zed's out of the running."

"Running?" Joshua asked, momentarily perplexed before understanding knocked his expression back into one of annoyance. "You've got a pool. On how I got her." Son nodded unapologetically. Joshua snorted. Really just like the bloody barracks around here. "Well, if you figure it out, let me know, cause I've no idea."

"Is she after your money?" Son asked. "Have you got money?"

Joshua shrugged. "I get by. If you asked her mum, she'd probably swear it was the other way round. Council Estate's all she's ever had and she's worth a lot more than that."

Jamal examined Joshua. "So, she's beautiful but doesn't know it," he enumerated. "Clever but doesn't believe it. Poor and doesn't imagine she can escape from it." He had an expression similar to a mathematician or scientist on the verge of a breakthrough. He blinked. "She must be terrified."

Son and Joshua simultaneously did a double take.

"What? Son asked before Joshua could find words. She was. He knew she was. She wouldn't tell him why, but something was wrong.

"Has she ever gotten positive male attention? She doesn't act it."

"Her dad's dead. First boyfriend was a real wanker." Joshua supplied dully.

"She's got so many insecurities," Jamal said blankly, not really connecting with the person he was speaking of or those he spoke to.

"Is that why she chose me?" Joshua asked brokenly. "Figured she wasn't good enough for anyone else?"

"No. I don't know why she chose you," Jamal said, a single wrinkle of mild interest marring his forehead. Son groaned, and that probably meant that no one had won yet. Joshua breathed in a deep breath of relief, only to have it dashed by Jamal's next, vague and indifferent comment. "But it's why she'll hide anything that's wrong." Jamal turned and left, his temporary interest in the discussion gone.

Joshua cursed. That was exactly what she was doing already. Didn't she realize that it would poison their relationship if he couldn't talk to her, if she bottled it all up? How could she be afraid she'd lose him? Didn't she realize he couldn't function without her?

He realized, abruptly, that she couldn't have a way to know. Joshua stalked towards his tree, thumbing on his mobile as he went.

* * *

Rose awoke late the next morning to the sound of a ringing mobile. Clumsily, she reached for it, nearly dropping it before she thumbed it on. "Hello?" she asked groggily.

"Did I wake you?" a tender, concerned, and simply edible voice asked.

Not wanting to lie, Rose told the absolute truth. "I'm glad you did," she said warmly.

"Where are you?" Joshua asked curiously. "You can't be on the bus, and I don't hear your mum's dreadful shows on in the background."

"I'm..." Rose paused. She still wouldn't lie, but would he appreciate the truth? "I had a row with mum," she settled for, trying to find a way to tell him that wouldn't be seen as an invasion of privacy.

"Oh. You okay?" There was genuine concern in his voice.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'll be alright. She'll probably just pretend it didn't happen. Like normal."

"So…where did you stay?" Joshua's voice was tentative. Maybe he had already guessed. Was he afraid of what she would say? Would it upset him?

"I, uh, I crashed at your place," she told him in an almost whisper before rushing on. "I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" Why would I mind? I gave you a key, Rose, so you could use it. "S'not an empty gesture." His voice was low, intense. Rose almost laughed in relief.

"I, uh, might have tidied up a bit. Didn't want you to come home to a mess." Her voice still betrayed her uncertainly. Surely she'd out stepped her bounds?

"Thank you," he told her, and she could hear from his tone that he meant it.

"Umm…I didn't plan this, right? Don't usually arrange for me mum to bring home a bloke practically my age. You know that, right? I didn't think to pack, so I borrowed some clothes."

A low groan make her stop, momentarily afraid that he was upset, but instinct reacted with something much different than fear at the sound.

"And I…didn't kip on the couch."

The groan became a growl that shot heat through her body. "Minx," he said, in a tone that failed to chastise her. "When I get out of here, you're not leaving that bed for a month."

Rose shivered deliciously. "I'll take you up on that."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Will you, Rose?" he questioned, intently.

She sat up, worry pushing even the wonderful warmth of his sensual voice onto a back burner. How could he doubt that? If he still wanted her, there was no way she would even consider being any where else. "Joshua, I..."

"Rose, I need you to listen to me." He sighed deeply. "I'm not a nice man. I'm arrogant, rude, and moody. I have a past that I need to tell you about, and it's not pretty. I thought coming here was what I needed to make me a better man, but I found out something yesterday and it's important that you believe me."

She was honestly too staggered by the weight of his words to find her voice, but he seemed to be waiting for her. "I... I'll always believe you, Joshua," she whispered, and hoped to hell he could hear her, because she could hardly hear herself over the pounding of her heart.

"All right," he replied, and he sounded almost... relieved? "It's you, Rose Tyler. It's gonna be you, when I get back there, and a year from now, and for as long as I can imagine."

"What?" she gasped.

"You're what makes me a better man," he clarified and his voice sounded heavy with emotion. "I had a rough day, yesterday, for a lot of reasons, and some of them seem kind of stupid right now. But you, your name, your face, the thought that you're going to be there when I come back to London, that's what got me through it all, and I don't want to let that go. You... you shine through the gloom, precious girl, through all of it."

Rose just sat there and shook, trying to gasp for air. She couldn't believe it, but he'd asked her, insisted really, that she had to. He... "I'm scared, Joshua," she admitted, at long last. "I don't want you to worry, you have too much to do."

He chuckled, and the sound of it made her almost smile. "Know what I did, yesterday?"

"What?"

"Ran laps around the building, picked a fight with one of the therapists, made Bill run some laps while we picked a fight with each other, told Sherry off, and picked a fight with a group of Orderlies. Not sure what you figure I'm busy doing, but aside from helping Son translate some really crude jokes, I've got nothing to do but think and talk and listen. Oh, I did paint a picture of you."

"You can paint?" she asked. She didn't know why she found that even the slightest bit surprising, really.

"Yes, and you're not allowed to change the subject."

"Oh, that's not fair, Joshua, I didn't mean..."

"I know, love." He sighed quietly on the other end of the line, while she rocked under the force of the endearment. "I just want you to understand. You're all I think about, all I want to think about. You've got to be the best thing that ever happened to me, ever, and I still don't know what you see that makes you want to stay. I'm old and dangerous and not anybody's definition of attractive and..."

"Hold up," she interrupted sternly. "I don't know who's definition you're going by, but by mine, you're a beautiful man. But I wouldn't care, you know, even if it were true. You're the one I want. I just... I thought... don't tell me you can't see it."

"See what, Rose? I see a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her and I see a broken old soldier who'd be lucky to have her smile at him, never mind sleep in his bed and want him there with her."

"And I see a great man who has a brilliant mind and a gorgeous body and... and more personality than you could shake a stick at and all this incredible talent. And I see just a shop girl."

He snorted. "You're not just a shop girl, love. You're not 'just' anything. You are... you're Rose Tyler, and that's just so fantastic I can't put it into words. Me. You say I've got a way with words, precious girl, and maybe you're right, but every thing about you leaves me speechless."

She sat there in his bed, listening to him tell her what she meant to him and she wondered suddenly what she had ever done, in this life or any other, to deserve any of this. And he thought _he_ didn't deserve _her_.

She wondered if it was possible to explode from happiness. She was positive it was possible to be paralyzed from it.

"Joshua," she said, absolutely certain it was okay, now, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Rose." She could hear a smile in his voice as he said it. "I... can you drive?"

She frowned. "No, I sorta never learned. Why?"

"It's all right. I just... would you come up, next weekend? You can take the train."

It would be a long trip, but dammit all, she'd _walk_ that far and further, just to see him, just to hold him. "I'd like to," she said. "I think I can swing it, yeah."

"Good, because... there's a lot of things I'd like to tell you, Rose, but for some reason there's an idiot making a very stupid ape of himself at me on the ground right now and I've apparently got to go and get told off for yesterday. I'll call you later if they let me and if not, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"OK," she said, and suddenly grinned as she made a connection with what he was saying. "What'd you do, climb a tree?"

He laughed, and sounded a bit self conscious while he did it. "Yeah," he admitted. "It's a very nice tree," he added.

She laughed, too, couldn't help it. "God, I love you!" she exclaimed, delighted.

His breath caught, the laughter stopping abruptly. "Oh, Rose," he breathed, and his voice made her shiver. "Oh, I love you, too."

* * *

There wasn't a single thing in the fridge. Rose shrugged and decided she'd grab something at the coffee shop for breakfast. She went into the bathroom to take a shower, and was confronted again by the list. A smile slowly transformed her face. She still didn't see what he did, but for him, she'd try. For him, she'd do anything. And that list…now she knew he meant it, even when sober. What a heady feeling that was.

Joshua Stewart was intelligent, caring, and sexy. None of those adjectives would she use to describe herself. But he would. And that was more than she'd ever wanted. Still smiling, she bent to turn on the water.

When she emerged, she smelled like him, his body wash, his shampoo. He was all around her, and she felt she could face anything. Maybe even her mother. She considered pilfering another of his jumpers, but was deterred by the fact that they'd been cleared out. Apparently all of them would be needed to get him through his stint at Springwood. A white tee would have to suffice for the day. At least it was clean. Taking a last, longing look at the bed she intended to familiarize herself with much more intimately in the relatively near future, Rose pocketed her mobile and headed out of the flat.

Sitting in the coffee shop where Joshua had purchased provisions for their first breakfast together above her flat, Rose nibbled absently on a danish. There wasn't much she had planned for the day other than a stop to get a train ticket for next weekend. Her resolve from the night before arrived unexpectedly in her mind. She fished her mobile from her pocket and scrolled through her contact list to find Doris Lethbridge-Stewart.

She seemed happy to hear from Rose and declared her nephew's absence was depriving her of the company of two of her favorite people.

"But," she continued, "I suppose I'll forgive him. As long as he doesn't do it again."

"He won't," Rose said quickly and with warm confidence. She could almost hear Doris' smile.

"I know."

"Actually, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." Rose took a breath. "I was tidying up his flat-"

"Brave," Doris interjected playfully.

"Yeah, I don't want to know about half of that stuff."

"You want to know about that much? I wouldn't venture to be curious about five percent," Doris affirmed. Rose laughed. She was beginning to wonder if it was possible to be anything other than happy when talking to Joshua's aunt.

"Anyway, there's this list that he wrote…on his mirror."

"Sounds like him," Doris stated drily. "What's it of?"

"Reasons to quit drinking. I'm not sure if I should clean it or not," Rose said with only a hint of hesitancy in her voice. Had she thought of it, she would have known that the night before she would have been beyond vacillating.

"What'd he write it with?" Doris asked. Rose blinked at the non sequitur, but willingly followed the turn in conversation.

"Uh…magic maker."

"That'll be hellish to get off. Leave it be. He wrote it, he can clean it up. I'm sure you've done more than enough. You've certainly done more than he deserves." Rose smiled warmly, deciding to accept the compliment without arguing for once and rang off after promising to call again soon.

* * *

"How are you doing today, Joshua?" Greg the Counselor asked. He didn't seem to be able to avoid smiling, but that might have been because Joshua was standing on the other side of his desk, bouncing quite a bit and, Joshua figured, grinning like a complete lunatic.

"I'm fine. No, I'm fantastic, absolutely fantastic."

"Oh, and why is that?"

Joshua laughed. "Because I'm me, and Rose Tyler loves me anyway!"

* * *

The door swung open cautiously at around seven that night. Rose walked trepidatiously into the place she had grown up. It wasn't the first time she felt uncomfortable in her childhood home, and she imagined it wouldn't be the last. If luck were with her, Rose would find Jackie gone, already, to the pub.

Luck wasn't with her.

Jackie Tyler had awoken that morning to find that the stabbings of guilt cut nearly as sharply as the hangover that assaulted her. She'd decided to apologize, maybe even clear the air a bit. Sure that her daughter would return soon, Jackie planted herself on the sofa she'd nearly soiled the night before. She was still there now, but the hours had wreaked havoc with her composure.

For her part, Rose had put off returning home as long as possible, running errands she'd been putting off but could stand to be put off still longer. This was not a confrontation Rose thought she would be strong enough to withstand. There was too much already going on in her mind: confusion and wonder and glorious warmth that could be put out so easily.

Her mum was collapsed on the sofa in tears and, Rose feared, drunk. She wasn't surprised when her mum launched herself at her, but she was surprised when Jackie proved to not reek of alcohol.

"I'm sorry!" Jackie wailed. Rose patted her back awkwardly. "It's just _that man_ is stealing you! I'm being left behind."

"Mum!" Rose thought it wise to break through the tirade as quickly as possible. "That's not true. You're not losing me. Every bird has to leave the nest eventually, but you'll always be my mum. Nothing's gonna change that."

"But-"

"But nothing, Mum, I love Joshua, and I'm not gonna be stopping any time soon. But I love you, too. Right now, I'm not going anywhere, but when I do, I'll take you with me, because you make me who I am. So don't worry. You're not losing me."

Jackie straightened and searched Rose's face. She must have found only truth there, because she crushed her daughter briefly to her before releasing her and going off to fix her face. Rose sighed heavily and plopped down to do something that would help calm the emotional turmoil: she flipped on the telly.


	32. Chapter 31

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has been watching the news and interviews with some astonishment, if the startled goldfish effect is anything to go by. Liz has asked him what he thinks of the development, but he won't say. OV is in the bathroom and we assume she's comforting the sobbing Jack. Jessa is trying to run down the rumors and also pestering the Doctor about how he's gonna find the energy to do it, what with Handy the Wonder Clone. OV's suggested we use butterfly nets and get ready to catch the new one, because the paperwork isn't gonna get signed if we let this one get away. And the world waits with bated breath. **

Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 31:**

Joshua chucked the "Official Warning Notice" into the bin and wished he had access to explosives. That bin, and the notice in it, really needed to be incinerated. He wasn't still annoyed enough to actually go to the trouble of conjuring something up - he was sure he could, if he looked hard enough. If all else failed, he'd be willing to bet the contents of Miss Carstairs crafts cabinet would detonate nicely.

Instead, he wandered outside and, despite Greg's worries, hauled himself up into the branches of his tree. It was time to talk to Rose, again, and he could put the notice behind him just because he would get a chance to hear her voice.

"You're never gonna believe this," she exclaimed, gleefully, as soon as he asked her how her day went.

He grinned. This sounded good. "What happened?"

"Well, you know I told you Wilson's broken up with that boyfriend of his, and he's been mooning around, all Mr. Lonely Hearts Club."

"There's nothin' sadder," he agreed cheerfully.

She laughed. "Tell me about it. Well, Harry came by the store today, which I thought was really nice of him. Said he needed a new suit for some conference or something."

Joshua chuckled. So his friends were looking in on her as he'd hoped they would, making sure she was doing well and, it sounded like, benefiting from it in return. "So he needed a fashion consultant?"

"Yeah, he did, you should have seen the thing he picked out. Blah doesn't cover how bland it was, and then it was the wrong shape to fit him right, too."

"John's been tellin' him for years he needed to get a girlfriend just to dress him," Joshua answered with a smirk. He toyed with a twig that was hanging too near his face and waited for her to go on with her story.

"I don't doubt it. Mind, I bet Doris would've helped if he asked, but your girlfriend managed to make him look pretty swish."

He could hear the pride in her voice as she announced this. He was simply delighted himself, his hearts swelling with joy to hear her call herself his. "Yeah, but _my_ girlfriend's brilliant. He'd not be so lucky."

"I love you," she told him happily.

"I love you," Joshua answered, completely awed that he could tell her this. It was his right. She was his and he was hers, and that was fantastic.

"Well, anyway, I got Harry all kitted out in a new suit, talked him into a proper tie..."

"Not pink, I hope," Joshua interrupted.

"Eew," she answered. "I'd never."

"Good. My shrink wears a pink shirt and a pink tie. It's terrifying."

She giggled. "Your shrink sounds like my mum."

"S'funny," he said, "that's exactly what I thought. So you talked Harry into a proper tie and then?"

"An' sent him on his merry way, though he did say to pop by and see him in his office."

Joshua rolled his eyes. Three guesses what _that_ was about. "Did he give you a card? If not, it's in that posh office block up from his flat, Suite 4A."

"Yeah, he did, but thanks, anyway, because I wasn't sure." He could actually picture her shrugging. "So, anyway, he leaves, and not ten seconds later, Wilson practically tackles me and drags me into the back to tell him _everything_ about Harry."

"What?" Joshua said, startled. "Why?"

"He wants me to set them up."

Joshua caught the tree limb just in time. Maybe he shouldn't be laughing so hard, but honestly, the picture of Sullivan's face if he heard this... The picture of _John's_ face...

"Breathe, Joshua," Rose said, dryly.

"I can't help it," he protested. "That's the funniest... Oh, you've _got_ to do."

"Ya sound like Shireen," she teased. "I tried to tell him Harry'd have kittens if a girl hit on him, never mind a bloke, but he wouldn't listen."

Joshua forced himself to sober. "Yeah, he's a bit... we had this friend once, Sarah Jane, and I think Harry was completely in love with her, but she didn't seem to feel the same. Never mind." Joshua sighed, then grinned again. "Set 'im up with Rickey instead."

He could definitely see her smirking, now. That cute little pink tongue was probably poking, just the tip, out past her teeth. "Wilson or Harry?" she asked.

She was brilliant, that's all there was to it. Even stars couldn't outshine her, not even if they tried.

* * *

They say the single best thing a person can do for their health is to stop smoking, but Joshua was fairly certain it would actually be of even greater benefit to his well being to stop having to eat the food provided at Springwood. They even managed to make banana pudding unpalatable which, prior to this, he'd honestly believed impossible. He grimaced as a heap of scrambled "eggs" was piled onto his tray.

Settling himself between Son and Zed, his favorite mono-syllabic inmates, Joshua poked at the mound with his knife, afraid it might eat the plastic. Or tap dance across the table, having been prodded into action. Both were possibilities. When neither occurred, Joshua heaved a sigh of relief. However, he still refused to eat it.

Zed had pulled the day's schedule out. Chemical dependants could look forward to a group first thing on the first step of twelve. Joshua didn't anticipate enjoying an hour of being told he couldn't do this alone and that he needed to rely on his higher power. Since Rose had told him before he came in that she couldn't be his higher power (she'd do anything she could to help him, but she couldn't be attributed with the power to do it for him), and since Bill had nearly had an apoplectic fit when Joshua'd mentioned settling on chocolate, he'd been considering what to say this time.

This time...

Time. Maybe that would work. He couldn't have the world be his higher power; he'd saved it too often to trust it. The universe wouldn't work either; it was clearly out to get him and taking obscene joy in doing so, even if he was considering forgiving it since it'd given him Rose.

But Time. Time was a force to be reckoned with, a fact of nature that shaped and formed every life. It was ancient, hailed with sayings and proverbs because even primitive man respected that sort of power. There is a time for all things. Time heals all wounds. Maybe this was his time. Maybe it could heal him. Maybe he could do this for Time.

A smile was almost forming when a pointedly cleared throat made him look up. A tech eyed Joshua's untouched plate with disapproval. Joshua sighed, mentally seeing the words "decreased appetite" being copied into his file and medicines being prescribed to stave off depression. He was comfortable with his depression, thank you kindly. In order to prevent this, Joshua reached for his fork. The fork he'd forgotten to get. Rolling his eyes, he glanced over at the table where the plastic-ware beckoned.

Apparently, it beckoned irresistibly. Joshua spied one of the maintenance workers who'd fixed the window he'd broken furtively snatch up one of the forks.

And take a bite.

Only experience kept Joshua's expression from giving him away. As the worker scuttled off after replacing the fork, Joshua stood and went over to the abandoned table. He pulled the fork out of the dish and examined it disdainfully. The bite was perfectly centered so that the outer tines were longer and the inner tines shorter. He shook his head. "Worse than double dipping," he muttered.

* * *

On Tuesday afternoon, Bill presented an idea for channeling Joshua's boredom and the so-called "surplus aggression". Joshua didn't think the aggression was particularly surplus, more redundant, really. He had once needed a vast amount of aggression just to be angry enough at the world to burden it by getting out of bed on a given day. However, he was astonished when the suggestion turned out to be... "Video games? Seriously?"

"We've had some success in the past with the more gifted children. Now, I realize you are not a child, but it seems to me that you might benefit from some time to... play. Take your mind off high alert."

"Seems a bit... silly," Joshua said haltingly.

"What do you do for entertainment at home?" Bill asked.

"In London?" Joshua mused. "I'm assuming you mean the socially acceptable bits? Read, write, and run."

Bill smiled a little, and Joshua thought it might almost be a real smile for once. "You're a professional writer, Joshua. And I think everyone here has seen you read."

Joshua shrugged. They'd been given some kind of guide book for twelve-steps and he'd read it like he read anything he didn't want to spend a lot of time on. Flipping rapidly through it hadn't stopped it from being committed to his photographic memory, though, which Bill had realized almost immediately when he asked a question and Joshua quoted chapter and verse along with the "regulars".

"I think you need to try to take your mind off the hook from time to time. Here, I brought these for you to choose from."

Joshua looked at the games he was being offered. "Nope, s'got guns. Nope, no blasting the aliens 'til I know what they're after. Nope, can't even run me own life half the time. Oh. Bananas... no, definitely not gonna be a stupid ape chasing after golden bananas. What possible use would they be?" He set the boxes down and read the back of the last one. He shrugged. "Well, I s'pose I can give it a go. But I've never even seen one of these things."

"Zed's agreed to show you how it works."

"Right," Joshua replied dubiously, and let Bill lead him to the small "game room" set up next to the lounge. It didn't have much - just table tennis, a couple of tellies with game systems, a pin-ball machine (which Joshua couldn't comprehend the point of), a Coke machine, and a marvelously neglected pay phone. Zed was sitting in one of the battered lounge chairs, attempting, as usual, to look like he'd died there yesterday and no one noticed.

"I'll leave you two gentlemen to it," Bill said quietly. "Joshua, try it for an hour. If it doesn't catch your interest, we'll try something else."

Joshua shrugged and sat down next to Zed. "You're gonna show me how to work this thing?"

Zed shrugged. "S'not much to it, really. Just push the red button ta zap the bad guys and... oh, you picked that one." Zed took the box and turned it over in his hands a few times.

"What's wrong with it?" Joshua asked.

"S'more complicated, but the characters teach you how to play." Zed looked up at him and the boy's face actually lit with the first smile Joshua had ever seen on it. "I like this one, you'll probably have fun with it."

Fun. Joshua couldn't remember the last time he'd done something that wasn't spending time with Rose for fun. Unless you counted blowing things up, which he didn't, not really. Not much.

Joshua shrugged. "All right, I'll give it a go. Show me how to work this thing."

* * *

Son leaned on the door frame of the game room, smiling his favorite "mysterious, enigmatic smile" at his room mate. Jamal was sitting in one of the other lounge chairs, just watching and occasionally complaining about the weather in the game Joshua was playing with. Zed got up and came over to Son. "Any luck about his girlfriend?" he asked.

Son shook his head with a sigh. "Hear she's coming to visit, though. Maybe we can ask her?"

"You do it," Zed said, his face grim and slightly sympathetic. Son decided Zed was probably already imagining his funeral. "Tellin' you, he's gonna kill someone just for the thrill of hiding the body any day now. Botherin' that girl's a sure way to guarantee it's you."

"I dunno why you think he's so dangerous," Son said. "He's a bit crazy, yeah, but we all are, here. He handles Jamal better than Bill does and I just don't think that's a sign of a complete bastard."

"He's not a bastard, Son. He's... I dunno. I just get this weird vibe off him. Like the one I used to get off our last lead guitarist."

"Was that the one who went to prison or the one who's shacked up with the porn star in California?" Son asked. He'd actually heard about Zed's band before meeting him, simply because his grand daughters were fans.

"No, the last one was Savage. He quit to start his own cult. Haven't seen him in six months, but last I heard he was in Indonesia. Or Texas. Can't remember which." Zed shrugged. "You should have seen him react to my tat."

"Which one?" Son asked, eying Zed's well painted arms and legs with considerable confusion.

Zed turned his right arm over and pointed out a single Greek letter in the midst of all the skulls and crows and other emblems of death and destruction. "S'pose that's the Greek letter for death?" Son asked.

"Among other things," Zed agreed. "He did that thing he does, you know, where he looks holes in you, and then he said it wasn't a good idea. That's all, just 'Tha's not a good idea, Zed. S'not safe.'" Zed shivered, apparently at the memory of Joshua's baleful gaze.

"You worry too much," said Son abruptly. Then, to change the subject, "How's the game going?"

"I think he's got the hang of it," Zed said. "Dunno, know-it-all like Joshua, you'd think he'd've seen a video game before."

"An' now there's a boat talkin' to me," Joshua observed to Jamal. "How's that work then, do ya think?"

Son snorted. "Ten quid says he beats it by Thursday."

* * *

Joshua waited until Son was out for some sort of family therapy meeting, to pull out his notebook and start making notes about the odd behavior of the maintenance workers. He'd been meaning to do it for several days but he kept getting distracted by psychiatrists and what passed for a social life in the closed-off world of rehab.

Jamal had currently decided that Joshua was a kindred spirit, however temporarily. Zed seemed to have an obscure fascination with him - Joshua liked the kid, but it was starting to unnerve him, given Zed's primary obsession. He didn't think Zed was suicidal, and he doubted the boy was particularly interested in the process itself - he believed, honestly, that it was the ritual of it all that appealed. Son just seemed to cherish a bone-deep affection for his status as a wise grandfather and had taken to trying to "adopt" the others around him.

Joshua had no idea why that sort of thing seemed completely normal to him.

Then, there had been Bill's distraction with the odd video game - kind of entertaining, at least with the story line, but he kept thinking there ought to be an easier way to direct the character to do his bidding. Or a more accurate way, anyway. Then, Greg had quizzed Joshua about his faith the other day and Joshua had had to try to figure out if he was an atheist or something that Earth didn't have a word for. It was probably the latter, actually, someone who'd met one too many gods to worry about the lot of them unless they were doing something dangerous. Finally, Miss Carstairs had managed to pester him three times over the past two days, asking detailed questions about what sort of art he was involved with in real life.

Anyway, back to the maintenance crews. He really needed to know more about the company they worked for and how long they had been at this facility, that sort of thing, so he realized he was going to have to get either his Uncle or Rose to try to look it up for him. Which meant he might worry one or the other of them.

Then again, Rose might just think he was curious, whereas Uncle Alistair would probably know immediately that he was suspicious about something. If he worded it carefully, he could get her to ask Mickey to look it up for him.

Actually, maybe he could just call Mickey. Then again, maybe that had better wait until he and Mickey saw eye to eye on more subjects than just that Rose needed looking after when Jackie decided to go bat-shit crazy.

The fact that he was suddenly accepting that he was going to end up friendly with Rickey the Idiot was a bit disconcerting, to say the least.

Right. What _did_ he know, then? Reptilian eyes, possibly. Blue blood, probably - a cut or injury would explain the one with the blue fluid on his hands, anyway. They ate plastic. Specifically, they ate a certain kind of cheap polypropylene and they either ate it for a guilty little snack or they didn't want to be caught. He wasn't sure which option he would find preferable.

His memory was very nearly perfect, except when it wasn't. In theory anyway, he should be able to put any evidence he acquired together to sort out what these things were. If he couldn't, there would be a problem, because he'd need to get into the UNIT records and, to do that, he needed unimpeded access to a computer. Well, he would just have to work without them, until and unless it turned out that it couldn't wait.

Wouldn't it be nice if this lot just wanted to get jobs and learn a few things and then leave?

That reminded him. The "chief" that had been mentioned had been described as a female. That might mean nothing or it might mean everything.

They couldn't be exactly shape shifters, not true ones, not if they bled something that much like blood. By the same token, they were clearly in very effective disguises. Not body stealing, though, not if the eyes were visible briefly and then looking normal.

He looked down at the page and a half he had scribbled. Clearly, this was going to need more information. So, did he want Colonel Mason to barrel up in here, possibly with guns blazing, or did he want to tell Rose a vague half-truth about why he took a sudden interest in the maintenance of this hospital, such as it was?

And that question gave him an idea. Rose it would have to be, then, definitely.


	33. Chapter 32

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has been following Rita the dog around all day and can't seem to figure out why. Jack and Jessa are currently restraining him, while Jack mumbles something about trying to lick dogs being rude. Jessa adds "So wrong, in so many ways." OV is offering to give him the dog if he'll just sign this handy-dandy little piece of paperwork transferring ownership. She does not specify of what. Liz is hiding the bottle of banana-scented dog spray and giggling. Rita is not amused.**

Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 32:**

"You have to come!" Shireen was insisting, almost begging really, on the phone.

"No, I don't," Rose told her, a bit annoyed. She looked at the calendar, where she'd been happily marking off days. Joshua's return at the end of June seemed forever away, and even Saturday, when she'd finally get to see him again, was almost a whole week. It seemed like time had nearly stopped in his absence, slowing to routine and tedium.

"You haven't been down the pub since before Joshua was locked up. He can't drink; doesn't mean you can't." Her voice changed from stern to placating. "C'mon, Rosie. Keisha's gonna be there, and it'll be Karaoke night."

Rose sighed heavily. "I don't know, Shireen. I don't think it's a good idea."

"You may not think so, but I know so. And when have I ever steered you wrong?"

"How about that time you tried to set me up with Simon?" Rose asked laughingly.

"I know you're not still ragging on Simon," Shireen chastised her. Her voice took on a luring sing-song, "Not after he agreed to let Mickey borrow his video recorder."

"What's that to do with the price of tea?"

"Mickey's gonna film you," Shireen explained softly. "You're gonna sing your heart out, and Joshua's gonna get it on film. You hooked your lover-boy with your song. Throw him a bone while he's gone."

Rose sat silent and shocked for several seconds. "Okay," she said, one word conveying a wealth of gratitude and affection. "I'll be there."

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to the real question. What you gonna wear?"

* * *

The library was a squat, drab building. Even so, the weight of knowledge pressed silence on the visitors. Even the cries of small children seemed muted. A kind-faced librarian had directed Rose to an aisle that seemed particularly dour, as though the unpleasant nature of its books had leached into the wood. Every single shelf hosted books on addiction. Alcoholism was neatly tucked away at the bottom.

After about 45 minutes of crouching, then kneeling, and then sitting on the floor, all the while examining various tomes, Rose stepped out into the early evening toting three thick volumes. One was on the underlying causes of alcoholism. One was advice for addicts wishing to break the habit. The final one spoke on living with a recovering alcoholic.

The bus driver was surprised when Rose got off two stops early, and expressed as much, but got a cheerful smile from his young patron, and he sent her merrily on her way. It was a short walk to Joshua's flat. Rose didn't think her mum would appreciate her studying alcoholism, and she didn't want to upset the tenuous tranquility that cautiously reigned at home. She knew he wouldn't mind her using his flat; he'd said as much. In fact, Rose suspected that Joshua would be touched if he knew she was studying to help him.

After setting the books on his bedside table, Rose stretched. She wasn't expected home until late that night, and she was looking forward to a quiet night alone. Recently, Shireen, Mickey, and Wilson seemed to have conspired to fill her time. Their intentions may be good, but it was beginning to be wearisome. She shook that thought from her head and headed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

* * *

When Rose stepped into the pub on Tuesday night, the place she had spent an untold number of evenings since she'd started sneaking in at 15, she almost recoiled from the smell of alcohol, the tang of stale beer, and the bitter aroma of the drunk. All of this was neatly tucked beneath cleanser and air sanitizer. Jenny had always run a clean operation, and before she had never really noticed. After two weeks away from the place, though, Rose felt assaulted by this most discrete aspect.

Nostalgia and loss crashed over her because, Rose realized, she could never come back here. This might be the place that had thrown her and Joshua together, but visits couldn't happen anymore. He had out grown his dependence for this place, and so Rose, too, would leave it behind.

Keisha and Shireen hurried over to exchange hugs. Shireen handed Rose a binder; the laminated pages within offered a list of available songs. Rose flipped through them idly, familiar with the contents. With barely a flick of her eyes over the words, Rose turned each page. Her hand was reaching to flip the sixth page when she froze, her gaze pinning a title. She wrote down her information and selection and turned it in.

Jenny came round to offer her a drink, but Rose kept to Coke. Noise pulsed around them. Mickey came over and gave Rose a fond, friendly embrace.

"Got it all set up," he told Shireen with a grin. She flashed him a smile as he sauntered back to his post and then returned her attention to Rose.

For the first time that evening, Shireen examined Rose's outfit. It was a black dress with matching shoes. The sleeves were full-length, off the shoulder affairs that swelled after the elbow to flow around the wrist. The top was a fitted, corset type embroidered with tiny, glassy black beads that sparkled when they caught the light. The skirt returned to the flowing, airy feeling conjured by the sleeves. It fell to mid-calf and was gathered in such a way that, should the wearer spin, it would fly up and swirl around their hips. Even the slight movement of her breathing would set the hem into a gentle series of plies, releves, and jetes.

A silver chain carried a key around her neck and her hair was swept back and up, a few tendrils caressing her cheek. She was beautiful. The neckline was too high and the skirt too low for it to be more suggestive than any other garment that was lucky enough to cover Rose Tyler. But it was elegant and if flattered her every curve. Shireen would never discover the time and stress it had taken on Rose and Wilson's part to achieve this look, but it wouldn't matter; it was worth any cost.

Time passed, and Rose did her best to enjoy herself. The company was excellent, but it was impossible to be comfortable in this place anymore. The empty corner table had a kind of haunted air to it, but Rose felt a shiver of pride and joy every time she thought of how empty it was. Already, she was planning to call it an early night. She was signaled to get ready and she headed over to the makeshift stage.

The pub had outdone itself this night. The spotlight, which usually washed out the color of anything it fell on, was being counteracted by colored lights above the microphone. Two small, bright lights were set up behind the stage and shone out so that, when Rose took her place, their beams just glanced the sides of her head, granting her a halo.

Looking down, Rose could see Mickey was set up. He gave her a thumbs-up coupled with a reassuring grin. It was a comforting thing to see, but it wasn't Joshua's. Reminding herself why she was here, Rose flashed him and, more importantly, the camera he was manning, a warm smile before nodding at the MC to start the music.

* * *

Mickey Smith had answered Shireen's call with a smile. What she had asked him to do had erased that smile with all the comfort of lasering off a tattoo. "You want me to help that rude git who's done nothing but ridicule me as long as he's known me?" he demanded incredulously.

"No," Shireen said in a voice that warned that patience was not something she had a surplus of. "I want you to do something nice for the girl who has been your best friend since she was old enough to say your name. And so help me, if you don't, I will tell every embarrassing story that you are even mentioned in to Joshua when he gets back, and do you really think he won't use 'em?"

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "What do you need me to do?"

Though Mickey had agreed to participate, he hadn't meant to enjoy it. Since Primary school, Mickey had enjoyed working with his hands, which was why he now worked at the mechanic's. In fact, it was that job that made this so easy. One of the guys he worked with had a brother who had worked as stage crew for a band. After a few brief phone calls, Mickey had everything he needed.

Arriving nearly an hour before the girls, Mickey had a quiet conversation with Jenny. This, in turn, led to a lot of frantic action on his part and a lot of knowing smiles from the women currently in the pub.

Keisha was the fist to arrive. This was fortunate because, in her dangerously high heels, she was almost exactly the same height as Rose would be and could therefore be a stand in for the placement of lights. Keisha had a remarkable talent for knowing which shoes Rose would wear. Mickey figured this was a girl thing, whereas Keisha couldn't believe he didn't see the common sense. No girl would perform for anyone, much less her boyfriend in anything other than heels. But this performance would be so important to her, there was no way she was risking something like tripping or having a stiletto break. Therefore, they would be fashionable but sensible. Two inch heels, Keisha had declared confidently, and Mickey had just shaken his head in amazement when she was proven right.

The last thing he did was to set up the camera but leave it off. Then he went to greet Rose and Shireen.

Examining Rose brought less jealousy than he thought it would. If he were honest, he'd admit that he'd always known that she didn't belong here. Others carved out a niche in the world they were in, but she floated along above it, always rebounding despite what was thrown at her from below. Mickey had hoped to support her, let her ride on his shoulders. But Joshua Stewart, the man who should deserve her less than anyone excepting Jimmy Stone was teaching himself to fly so that he could meet her. Only, he did it with an air, not of learning, but of remembering where he'd left his wings.

Never having had her didn't mean that Mickey didn't know what he had lost. But, he supposed the better man had won. He could only be bitter and complain about being stolen from for so long before reality would present itself to him for re-inspection. And when, not too long later, Rose smiled at him before signaling for the music to start, Mickey realized that he was thrilled just to be friends with this amazing person.

* * *

A soft drum, played lightly but with precision, introduced itself to the audience counting out a syncopated rhythm. It slid between patrons and inserted itself in conversations so that only its voice was heard.

"One-and three…One-and three…" it hissed to a now silent pub. Realizing that attention was being given, a piano sounded two notes, an octave jump that had barely announced its presence but it shuffled quickly backstage to allow Rose to introduce the tonic fifth. Her voice was mellow and warm, but it cut out its pitch with the exactness of a scalpel. It was a true tone, one that any musician would be proud of, and it was only the beginning.

"_Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars,_" Rose implored. "_Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars._" She didn't know why, but this song had declared to her that it was the one she should sing for Joshua tonight. She knew instinctively that he alone could show her the stars properly. Her eyes were locked on the lens of the camera where she imagined the reflection of the pub gave Joshua's profile. "_In other words,_" she crooned, reaching out for him. "_Hold my hand. In other words_," she brought the hand back and let it ghost along her lower lip, "_Darling kiss me._" An air kiss was too trivial for this moment, but she did pout slightly, and allow her eyes to become hooded.

The second verse passed by with longing and affection. Every word was obsessed upon so that it was perfect and its every nuance afforded, but was forgotten in favor of the next. _"Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore. In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you."_

The band took its place as foremost in the attention of the listeners, and some of the tension faded. A smile played on Rose's face as she swayed her hips loosely with the rhythm. And then she began again, repeating every word she had just uttered. Ironic, because so often she and Joshua did repeat themselves to cover the other's insecurities. Her voice never faltered as she delivered him this message.

"_In other words. In other words. In other words, I love…_" The music paused for a lighthearted piano chime but Rose's body language left the viewer in no doubt what her next word was. "_You._"

The crowd erupted into an avalanche of applause, but Rose smiled sweetly at the camera. "I love you, Joshua. I'll see you soon. You're nearly halfway there; you can do this. I do love you."

She flashed Mickey a grateful grin when the red light flipped off and descended to the floor to engulf him in a hug. "You're the best friend a girl could have. How'd you manage all this?"

"I'm just that good," he told her with an impish smile. "Now, some of us have got work to do." He flourished the digital tape at her and swaggered to the door.

* * *

Rose was still counting down the days, contemplating what to wear on Saturday, and nervously wondering what Joshua would think of the video, when he called to ask a favor. She had had a bad day at work and was just glad to hear his voice as she rode the bus home.

He'd started to ask his favor, but paused when he apparently heard the tension in her tone. "What's wrong, love? Has something happened?"

"What?" she said, maybe a little sharply. "No, s'nothing like that." She sighed. "Just hate my co-workers is all."

"I wish you'd quit that job," he said. She was seriously considering telling him to wish away, it wasn't going to happen, when he continued, gently, "I'd rather you were happy, that's all. Not telling you to what to do, Rose, just... I'd rather you were doing something that made you happy."

It washed over her like soothing starlight, the warmth in his voice, the tender concern. "I am, now," she said, because it was true. She was talking to Joshua and that was almost all it took to make her happy these days.

She could just imagine that broad grin as he answered, "Gimme time, love, and I'll do more than that."

She blushed, because that was an innuendo and there was no two ways about it. "What did you need?" she asked, and wasn't surprised when he laughed silkily at the slight squeak in her tone.

"Can you go by my flat? I'd like you to look something up on the internet if you've got time."

As a matter of fact, it was the next stop, so she agreed, and then sat back to a cheerful discussion of some book he thought she should read if she had the time while they waited. She got off at the stop, walked the block or so to his flat, complaining that not everyone could read a book by flipping the pages and that if he was handing out reading lists, he had to hand out the ability too, to go with it.

"Or you could read to me," she suggested cheerfully as she dragged his laptop out onto the coffee table and set it up.

"Might do, yeah," he agreed, his voice smoldering.

Rose was starting to suspect that he wanted her to have trouble sleeping tonight. She shivered deliciously. "Are you flirting with me, Joshua?"

"Nah," he said, airily. Then, his voice dropped, low and slow and... definitely not sleeping well tonight. "I'm seducing you, actually. Is it working?"

"Maybe," she answered, coyily, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. "Tell you what. Let me look this stuff up for you and then you can try again."

He laughed, warmly and honestly, and she laughed along with him. "Rose Tyler, you're fantastic. Now, this'll seem stupid, but can you find Springwood's website?"

She'd looked it up before, so the little PowerBook pulled it up in a matter of seconds. "Got it," she agreed.

"Right. See if you can find anything on vendors or anything like that."

No luck, so he gave her a name of a company to put in the search engine. "Right," she said. "Nothing. But some small companies don't have websites."

"All right, check business listings for Scotland. Even if they're not online, they should have at least a directory listing, shouldn't they?"

"Think so. They'd have to have a license or something, I'd think," she agreed.

When the search turned up nothing, she chuffed in frustration. "Maybe I'm not doing it right?" she asked.

"No, you're doing fine," he answered, and he sounded very strange and very, very annoyed. "They're just... not right."

"What's this all about?" she asked, concerned and suddenly suspicious.

He sighed. "All I really wanted was to make sure they didn't have a government contract or anything, because they suck."

She laughed, then sobered. "But now, you're worried."

"An' you're clever," he shot back, cheerfully. "Not worried. Just... annoyed."

That was absolutely true, she realized, so she let it go. For now. She thought about it, though, and wrote the name of the company down on a hastily snagged piece of paper. Might do some digging on her own, nothing serious, just looking. "All right. That's done, then. What else do you need?"

His voice was probably coming from his shoes when he answered, on a growl, one word. "You."

Springwood's maintenance company was driven from her mind by the conversation that followed. In fact, everything was driven from her mind, except wondering if maybe there was some way they could find time and privacy this weekend so she could shag him against a wall.

* * *

Joshua clicked off his mobile and hung his head, breathing deeply and trying to slow his racing hearts. He let the guilt take over and it soon got rid of the raging erection, making it possible for him to drop through the tree limbs and down to the ground.

He'd been trying to distract her, but he'd genuinely gotten caught up in the conversation. He could get caught in any conversation with Rose Tyler, and he knew that, but this one... He shook his head to clear it as best he could. The problem with being a genius was that he could easily maintain two fully functioning trains of thought simultaneously, while any number of others could keep a low profile background hum.

He went back to his room and fished out his notebook, tossing Son's jacket back onto his room mate's bed. Point: the maintenance company did not exist in public records. Point: the maintenance company had to have a contract of some sort to be operating at Springwood Hospital. Point: Rose Tyler would look exquisite with her legs wrapped round his waist.

He drew a deep, startled breath. Focus.

Point: someone high up on Springwood's staff had to have hired the maintenance company. Point: that meant there was at least the very strong possibility of human collaboration in whatever was going on with the maintenance company. Point: make it her ankles behind his ears. Now that was an image to conjure with.

He groaned, tossed the notebook back into his case, and stormed off to get a cold shower. He definitely deserved it this time.

* * *

Thursday afternoon found him sitting in the Gameroom, surrounded by an audience of his fellow inmates and, for some reason, an amused Greg. Maybe two more passes would be required, a tiny precision handling of the little cartoon character. If the pirate queen in the fairy ball gown managed not to kill him accidentally first.

He touched the right buttons at exactly the right time, then sat back to watch the amusing end-game video with a smile of satisfaction, while around him, the rest cheered or groaned, depending on where they'd put their money. He had to admit it was entertaining, at least from a strictly technical point of view. Maybe he'd go through it again, this time find all the things hidden in the game but not necessary to complete it. Might be interesting.

Sherry turned up at his shoulder and he glanced at her non-committally. "Bill wants to see you," she said. "Says you've got a package."

He nodded, handed the controller to Zed, and rose to go find Bill.


	34. Chapter 33

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor, having read the rumors, is now staring at us in indignation and swearing that he will NOT turn back into Nine. Jessa has her dangerous pen and has written out "temporal-reactive interductive inverse displacement effect", several other weird concept words, and the word "meta-crisis". OV is trying to talk the Doctor off the ceiling (how he got up there is anyone's guess) by swearing Jessa's just making it up and promising if he'll just sign the paper, she won't let it happen. Maybe. Jack has read Jessa's notes and is suddenly begging her for something. And the Doctor looks extremely worried.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 33:**

Joshua stuck his head into Bill's office, not entirely certain, despite the open door, that he was really expected. Bill gestured him inside and closed the door after them and Joshua couldn't decide if it was more like being hauled onto the carpet at school or being hauled up on charges. He'd done both on multiple occasions as he remembered it.

"You've received a package," Bill began, almost warily. Certainly, his manner declared this was probably not as pleasant an occurrence as it would seem.

"People do that here, I've noticed," Joshua replied cheerfully. "Son got brownies. Zed ate them. We all thought it would do the kid good. How's me getting a package a problem?"

"You know I'll need to see inside it," Bill answered in that aggravatingly calm voice of his. He did, however, hand an overnight mail envelope over.

Joshua opened it, pocketed the enclosed note with a glower that dared Bill to lose an arm if he tried to take it, and removed a clear CD jewel case from the envelope. It was otherwise empty, and Joshua turned the little item over a couple of times before he set it on the edge of Bill's desk. Pulling out the note, he read,

"_We all thought you might like to see this, mate. Think it'll cheer you up. Good luck, you probably need it. -Mickey_"

Joshua blinked at the note in surprise, then stuffed it back into his pocket. He reached for the jewel case but found it was on the other side of the desk now, in Bill's hands. "It's just a DVD from some friends back in London," he said, trying for polite, hoping that would cut down on the discussion time. Already, he was getting itchy from curiosity. It wasn't uncommon for curiosity to get the better of him, and it had gotten him into trouble far more times than he cared to think about, but there was little chance of him stopping now. Who was 'we all' and what did they think could possibly make him feel better about being holed up in this place, miles away from his Rose?

"It might be an issue," Bill began soothingly, in that hypnotic, irritatingly knowing tone of voice that seemed to be his standard way of speaking. Joshua was surprised he refrained from the obvious question of 'you have friends?' which wouldn't necessarily be out of line seeing as how Joshua hadn't even had to go out of his way to make enemies of the majority of the staff here. Bill continued, "The contents might be detrimental to your frame of mind."

"Might... be an issue," Joshua repeated, feeling a bit like there was something sort of Twilight Zone about this whole conversation. "S'not likely to be a death threat, 'less it's from Jenny. She owns the pub I used to keep open but I 'magine she's found a friendlier drunk to haunt me table by now. Wouldn't've been difficult, that. So why don't you let me see it an' I'll tell you if it's an issue?"

"Joshua, you have been a highly reluctant participant in most of our discussions thus far. I have to believe that this will be no different. You won't work with me and you seem to enjoy making things difficult for both of us. I am here to help you, and to do that, I have to be able to make certain choices for your care. It is necessary for me, as your psychiatrist, to review this material to make sure it won't cause you undue stress."

Joshua stared at the little psychiatrist, wondering why the man hadn't simply opened the package without informing him then. Quietly, he answered, very simply, "No."

"I'm sorry, Joshua but..."

"No," he repeated. "No, you are not going to make decisions for me. My addiction was making decisions for me, and we all see where that got me. Same damn hole I was already in, only poorer and nearly dead besides. My girlfriend's mum hates me - pot and kettle, that one - and Rose's lost more sleep because of stupid drunks than any girl her age ever lost for any good reason. Tryin' to avoid stuff, refusin' to choose, that's what got me here and we're not goin' there, now. You worried about that video, put it in, let's see it and if by some chance I finally have a psychotic break, feel free to sedate me with whatever you got handy. I hear Haldol can be a trip."

"I really don't think..."

Joshua bit back the "I really believe that" with effort, because he could see Bill was wavering. "I can take just about anything, Bill. I've seen things that would boil your soul, and done worse besides. It's very unlikely a few kids from Powell Estate can accomplish something by trying to be friendly that armies and terrorists and being responsible for a lot of deaths hasn't." He didn't say, didn't insinuate that, given their proximity and access too Rose, those kids probably had the best opportunity to break him. They wouldn't do anything to hurt her, and she wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone. He shook his head. "I can't let other people make my choices any more, Bill. I've done enough of that and I know it's bad for me. Now, are you gonna put it on or are we done?" He was certain that Hendy realized he meant 'done, completely, forever' by that question.

The little psychiatrist frowned and, finally, nodded. He reached over and set the disk neatly into the player. His office was, for some reason, equipped with a rather large telly and Joshua was grateful for it as he sat back and waited for the amateur cue marks to pass.

The DVD played a short intro piece, Shireen smiling cheerfully at the camera and Keisha and Mickey laughing with her as she announced that they all thought he could do with something to make him smile. Smile, he did, surprised as he was to realize that these people who he hardly knew had gone out of their way to arrange something nice, just for someone as irritating as he could be. He knew they were probably doing it because they loved Rose, but that made it all the more precious, that they were willing to share her with him when he, in turn, wasn't particularly thrilled at the idea of sharing one moment of her time with anyone.

But they had been her friends long before he knew her and if he was going to be part of her world, then they were going to become part of his. A wave of acceptance for most of the people in Rose's little corner of the Universe washed over him.

Jackie Tyler was another matter entirely, but they could hash that out later.

The video then switched to the Pub. He would recognize that place anywhere, no matter how carefully the camera had selected the tightest view of the makeshift stage. Rose appeared then, wandering into the spotlight, dark and gold in the artificial light, as soft and as beautiful as she had ever appeared, only more so. It was as if absence had blurred her colors, as if memory had captured her but left out some undefinable quality that could only be viewed when actively watching her. She stood there in bright lights of the stage, and looked somehow bathed in the dim light of stars.

Even her lovely black dress had a sort of glow to it. That dress kept her understated and yet made the glory of her completely visible to him at the same time. He smiled and shook his head and missed her terribly, and then the music started and his hearts ached for her.

Bill stood up and, smiling slightly, quietly left the office. Joshua was grateful for the privacy, as he really didn't want to share this with anyone yet. Maybe ever. No, he wanted everyone to know how perfect she was, so he would be sure to proliferate it excessively, but he knew it would always be something in it that was just his. Oh, he was absurdly proud of the way she looked and the way she sounded, but he still found it in him to believe that, public performance aside, she was doing this for him alone.

Her dark honey voice was, as always, perfect, and it suited the piece she selected in a way that only Old Blue Eyes himself could top, and Joshua wasn't sure he'd give even Frankie that. "_Fly me to the moon_," she implored, and he wanted to, wanted it so much. She deserved stars; every light in the entire blazing cosmos should orbit around her head.

He knew with extensive expertise what stars should and should not do, after all, just as Rose knew what music should do, and how to make it do anything she wished. His breath caught as he watched her, unable and unwilling to take his eyes from her. The camera caught an expression of loving wistfulness that hit him hard in the chest, and he knew it was meant for him, just as much as the smiles and the pouting lips and the gleaming, bright dark eyes. The camera couldn't show her true gold radiance, but the halo the lights gave her was a beautifully appropriate reflection of it.

He had to be the luckiest man in the Universe.

To be loved like this, to be wanted like this, to have this woman, this precious, precious girl give her love and her time and her heart to him... forever wasn't going to be anywhere near long enough to spend with her. His fingers trembled to touch her, his arms ached to hold her, his lips burnt for hers, his hearts breaking for the absence of her quiet single rhythm in the spaces between his own.

He listened, enraptured, by the cheer and joy in her song, by the words that rang out from her with such depth and emotion. "_Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore..._" He could have just as easily returned those words to her, any day, every day, forever. And when she sang out the climactic, final "I love you," he wondered if she knew that her hand went to the key around her neck, the key to his door maybe, but also the key to his life. Did she know it meant he let her in, not only to the flat he inhabited but to anywhere within him she might ever want to go?

It wouldn't be easy, but he would let her in.

As she spoke tenderly, repeated her love for him to him and to posterity, reminding him in her "glass-half-full" manner that he was almost halfway through with this, he found himself wishing, once again, that he could control time and bend it to his will.

Saturday couldn't get here soon enough.

* * *

"Well?" Joshua said, when Bill returned. Joshua had the DVD frozen on a view of his Rose, her fingers touching her lips as if to feel a kiss upon them.

"I'm pleased to see your faith vindicated," Bill offered. "Is she a professional singer?"

Joshua smiled. "Could be, couldn't she?" he asked. "No, she says she can't read music. I'm s'posed to teach her when I get back to her."

"I think you could both benefit from that sort of activity," Bill commented.

"Go on, I know you want to say something," Joshua offered. He felt a strangely quiet sort of joy stealing over him, and felt he had the strength to endure almost anything Bill might throw at him.

"I'm not here to pass judgment, Joshua. I would suggest, as we therapists do, that relationships take a lot of hard work and dedication. And communication, of course, which I admit is limited at this time."

"But not impossible."

"No," Bill agreed. "Do you feel, Joshua, that we're making any progress here?"

Joshua smiled ruefully. "It wasn't that we weren't making progress before, Bill. I'm sober. Most days, it's good to be sober. What you seem to me to be missing is that my mind doesn't work the way a normal person's does. I will never become a happy-go-lucky sort of man, it isn't in me nature, not with what I've seen. I don't want drugs to make me feel like I'm someone I'm not. That beautiful, fantastic woman loves me the way that I am; she even put up with me the way that I was. I think... I think her smile is going to be all I will ever need to be truly happy."

"Have you told her?" Bill asked after blinking rapidly several times, obviously surprised that his question was not only openly and honestly answered, but that correlated information was offered.

"That, yes. The other stuff... no, I haven't. And I should. She deserves to know all that." Joshua sighed. "I'll try to stop avoiding stuff if you'll trust me to tell you my limits. Can we work with that?"

Bill smiled, a real, genuine smile this time. "I suppose we can. We're scheduled after arts and crafts tomorrow."

"Can I call in sick?" Joshua asked, plaintively.

"I'm afraid not," Bill answered. "Miss Carstairs has come up with something more appropriate this time, I think."

"Lovely," Joshua said, and shook his head. "Long's its not pottery. I'd hate to think I'll end up in Isolation again for getting in a literal mud-slinging contest with the woman."

"She seemed genuinely concerned about you, you know. Of course I told her nothing, but she expressed concern over that... incident." Bill reached over and plucked the DVD from the machine.

Joshua frowned. "Really." He took the DVD and lovingly placed it back in its jewel case. "Thank you," he said and, for once, he meant it. "See you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Joshua gave a snort of laughter. "Tell me that afterward," he said, and left the office.

* * *

"You were beautiful," Joshua said softly into the mobile, leaning back against the tree trunk. He imagined her blushing that attractive way she had before, the same way she sometimes flushed when he kissed her. He had to push that thought from his head because he often followed it up with imagining kissing the path that blush took as it trailed down her face and...

"Thank you," she said, just as softly. "Did you like it?"

"I... I thought it was perfect, Rose. The camera didn't do you justice, but, your song, I loved it. You did it so well, you always do, though."

"Please tell me the camera didn't really put weight on me," she protested.

"No!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as he heard her chuckling on the line. "No, it's just... You sort of glow, when I see you, and the camera didn't show that, but..."

"I think that was because you weren't there, really," she confessed.

He blushed a little at the realization, and was both relieved that she didn't see it, and wished that she had. That she had an expression about her, a smile, a way of being, that was only for him... "I'd like to see your dress in person someday soon. I'll... if you still want to go to France, you can wear it when I take you to dinner."

"You do know I'll go anywhere with you, right?" Rose asked. "Or be right here in London with you if you'd rather. I just want to be with you, anywhere, everywhere, doesn't matter."

He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. "As long as we're together?" he ventured.

"Yeah," she said, and she sounded positively giddy when she said it. "Yeah, think so. We're just... we're better that way."

He grinned. "We're never gonna be normal, you know. There's so many things I want to say to you, so much you might not understand."

"I do understand, though," she said gently. "I understand that I love you and want to be with you. I trust you, Joshua. You can say anything to me, and I'll believe you. No matter how daft it may seem. I'm here for you and it's all I want." Her voice went low and husky, inviting and compelling and he sort of had it coming considering what he'd done to her the other day. "You're all I want."

"You're all I want, too, Rose Tyler." He smirked and let his voice drop to something low and suggestive and full of all the aching need he felt for her. "And when I get out of here, I'll have you. All of you."

She made a sweet little startled noise that set his imagination on fire, and after that, the conversation got out of hand for awhile.

* * *

"Right, so playing with very sharp toys," Zed observed. "Fiver says someone slices their wrists open."

Joshua snorted, bit down a bark of laughter. "Just don't you do it, yeah?" he shot back. "You'll scare the hell out of 'em when you bleed black ink."

Zed blinked at him in apparent surprise, then shrugged. "Not gonna kill myself," he confessed. "I don't like morgues."

Joshua shivered. "Yeah, me either," he agreed. They fell quiet then, as Miss Carstairs gave them both an impatient glower.

Since woodworking was a vast improvement over popsicle sticks from hell, Joshua hadn't bothered to call her a stupid ape yet today, but he was a bit concerned that advanced sculpture wasn't the sort of thing some of these people - with shaky hands and clinical depression - should necessarily be trying. By the same token, she'd sort of let people decide their skill level and, while he was sitting there with a small block of wood and a pile of really sharp, very small instruments, Jamal appeared to be mostly working with a short stick and sandpaper. Jamal had lately taken a fascination with the Harry Potter books, so Joshua had an easy guess what that stick would end up being.

Son appeared to be building a bird house. Joshua shrugged as that gave him an idea and tilted the little bit of wood around in his hand for a moment. Eh, it wasn't going to be a bird very easily. In fact, looking at it, he thought he probably wouldn't be able to carve it into anything that wasn't block of wood shaped.

Maybe he should just give this up as a bad job and build Aunt Doris a bird house for her back garden instead.

That reminded him. He reached for a small adze and made the first cut.

"How're you doing, Joshua?" Miss Carstairs asked cheerfully from uncomfortably close behind him.

Dividing his concentration, he replied, without looking up, "Fine, if you don't startle me into opening a vein."

"Don't be silly," she said, and nudged his elbow. Had he been at a crucial stage, and had that nudge caused him to destroy his work, Joshua decided, no one could blame him for his actions.

He sighed. "Off you go, then," he muttered. "I'm not touching these things 'til you're on the other side of the room."

She sulked effervescently at him (how could anybody do something that weird?) and wandered off to bother someone else. He worked for awhile, shaping the little box, wondering it he should put working doors on it and deciding he shouldn't as the ones on the original didn't open now, even if they probably once had.

There was quite a noise from a dropped hammer across the room, but Joshua had already tuned the others out, though he did look up for a second to make sure no one had been hurt. He saw Miss Carstairs trying to help Son pick up his tools, and making a good deal of noise while she was at it. He rolled his eyes, looked over at Zed, who was grinning evilly, and went back to his work. "Nice guitar," he mentioned.

"Thanks," said Zed, and went back to his carving.

He had just finished whittling the top of his block down to a tiny light on the top of the miniature box, when he decided he could hollow out the bottom of the little thing with a proper tool, and make it into a music box for Rose. Probably wouldn't be able to find the right tune for the miniature lawn sculpture, but it should be possible to find the right tune for Rose.

"And what's that strange little thing?" Miss Carstairs bubbled from the other side of the table. Joshua had practically expected the irritating woman, and ignored her.

However, the startled gasp from his side proved that everyone hadn't been prepared for her. Specifically, Zed hadn't been prepared for her. Joshua dropped him tools and jumped up, coming around Zed's other side. Zed was just sort of staring incredulously at the deep, jagged crimson gash in the palm of his hand.

Joshua seized the boy's hand, found the pressure points in the wrist. "Right. You, Bubbles. Get medical in here." Miss Carstairs stared at him blankly and Joshua glowered at her, his voice sharp, like a whip-crack. "Now!" She scrambled. He turned back to Zed and raised the boy's arm to shoulder level, to get it above his heart.

"I'm gonna die?" Zed asked him, looking completely horrified at the idea.

Joshua smiled gently. "No, you're not gonna die. It's just deep, so it'll bleed a lot and you'll need stitches. Don't worry, though, doesn't look like you cut anything important. Just a flesh wound, right?" He glanced around the room. "Is there a fucking first aid kit in here, at least?" he demanded.

"Sorry," Zed said quietly. "I think I'm bleeding on your jacket."

"Eh," Joshua waved it off calmly. "An' to think I figured it'd be ink." He shook his head as someone sat a first aid kit on the table in front of him. "Open it?" he suggested rudely. Sherry, who was standing nearest, complied quickly.

"Humans," Joshua muttered, irritably. "Right, you lot, move some of this stuff outta the way so they can get in here."

"Why?" Jamal asked, and Joshua smiled because it was a good question with an ambulatory patient.

He flung his other arm around Zed's shoulders the second before it happened. "That's why," he said, as Zed slumped, boneless, in his chair.

"Is he dead?" Jamal asked, while several of the others pushed the tables and chairs out of the way of the doors.

"No," Joshua repeated, quietly, but firmly. "He's just... not good with blood, apparently. Or shocks, maybe. Certainly can't be pain." He was shifting through the first aid kit, with the hand of the arm he was using to support Zed's slight weight.

A doctor and nurse appeared in the doorway, along with a group of orderlies. "You'll need a stretcher," Joshua told them, calmly. "He's out."

"From the blood loss?" the doctor demanded, coming up beside Joshua and, apparently, only noticing the blood.

"No, he's in shock. Kid's terrified of dying."

"Really?" asked the doctor, not moving to disturb Joshua's hold in any way. "Then why attempt suicide?"

"It wasn't a suicide attempt," Joshua clarified, barely controlling his frustration with that assumption, "it was an accident." He rolled his eyes. "Look, if you don't want to get blood on your lab coat, I'll carry 'im, but we kinda need to stop the bleeding, yeah?"

The nurse seemed to actually be sensible, and began barking sharply at the orderlies who reappeared with a stretcher. In seconds, Zed was given proper triage and whisked off to the infirmary.

Joshua knew why they were hesitant to get near a bleeding patient, but sometimes you just had to deal with the risks. Went with the job. He pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn't covered in blood and told Bubbles to call maintenance to get the mess cleaned up.

As he strode off to get a shower and something to clean his coat, he muttered, "Damn, stupid, piss-poor excuse for a hospital, I'm closing this place down if I have to blow it up meself."


	35. Chapter 34

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has chased Jack out onto the roof for wondering aloud if Janis Joplin gave David Morrissey his coat, too. We've informed him that we'll let him back in if he'll either perform a random dance or sign the paperwork. If not, we've threatened to show "The Producers" to the fangirls. **

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 34:**

"You'll probably be relieved to know that Alan's blood tests are on file as free of pathogens," Bill said calmly when Joshua let himself into the office.

"Standard check for an IV drug user?" Joshua questioned.

"We do have to protect our staff," Bill said, the only answer he was going to give.

Joshua didn't mind. As long as they weren't going to want to draw his blood, he wasn't worried. His own blood tests were liable to come up with so many strange, unearthly traces that they were not allowed to draw blood unless his life was in immediate danger and then only with Harry's approval. It was safer that way. He decided to change the subject. "Speaking of your staff, that doctor... Jones, wasn't it?"

"Ah, yes. He wanted me to apologize to you, said he had no idea what came over him, he just froze. I'm assuming you've had field medic training or something?"

"Genius," Joshua reminded Bill. "I still think you oughtta put something in his file or whatever. A doctor's job is to make people better." He felt that very strongly on an immensely personal level. It offended something fundamental inside him to have a physician failing to do whatever he could to fix things immediately.

"He came to us highly recommended, but he's relatively new to this line of work. It doesn't matter, though, because we are here to talk about you. Unless the incident brought up memories?"

"That's an interesting question," Joshua said, then waved a hand when Bill went to speak, probably to try to stop him dodging the question as usual. "Hear me out. You've diagnosed me with PTSD and I'll tentatively concur with the diagnosis since it certainly seems to fit the symptoms, such as the night terrors, even the alcoholism. But I'm genuinely curious as to why I didn't react badly to a crisis situation. My mate John says I'm an adrenaline junky an' he's got a point, but..."

Bill's phone rang. He tried to ignore it but it didn't stop, so he reached for the intercom. "I'm not to be disturbed," he reminded the receptionist.

"Sorry, Dr. Hendy," the receptionist's voice replied apologetically. "Dr. Parks is on the line, sir, and she said it was an emergency."

Bill nodded. "It would be. Thanks." He glanced up at Joshua, who nodded cheerfully enough. "Can we reschedule?"

"Monday, I guess," Joshua offered.

"Thank you," said Bill and pounced on the phone. Two seconds later, as Joshua was leaving, Bill was already reaching for his coat and brolly. Joshua couldn't even guess what was going on but as Bill insisted he would be right there, Joshua decided he liked Dr. Parks and her interruption just fine.

* * *

Joshua didn't sleep that night. This was not unusual. What was unusual was the way his uncanny sense of time's passage seemed to fail him. The night, he would swear, was significantly longer than any other night he had endured at Springwood.

He lay, silently fretting, while Son snored peacefully in the bed next to his. There was so much he had to tell her, so much to explain. How could he make her believe it?

Thinking back, Joshua remembered Rose's acceptance of the Anath at Beltane. She had said she'd always believe him, but she couldn't know what he had to tell her. Little Susan was a silent testament to his multitudinous failures, to the chaos that plagued and played with his life. If Rose didn't believe him, he would lose her, because she wouldn't trust him. If she did, he would lose her still. Rose had never known what she signed up for when she chose him, but he was finding he could hide nothing from her no matter how scared he was of telling her.

"667," Son murmured as he rolled over. Joshua turned his head to regard the man, wondering what dream could prompt such a comment. The grin signified that it must be the code to a bank vault or maybe a girl's phone number

But the distraction was enough to break through the thoughts circling in his mind. His panic and despair briefly distracted, Joshua's gaze fell on the picture of herself that Rose had tucked into his suitcase. This woman had surprised him again and again. Tomorrow, for a time at least, she would be in his arms. And, come what may, Joshua Stewart was going to tell Rose Tyler everything she needed to know, everything she deserved to know, and everything, despite himself, he wanted her to know.

She alone could absolve him of his sins.

* * *

Rose was not accustomed to seeing the numbers of her clock display 4:30 while it was still dark out. She normally crashed a bit after 2 at her latest, and the last time she had gotten up that early was for Christmas when she was twelve. Looking back on that bike, it'd been worth it. The cause that roused her so early on this Saturday morning was also worth it.

The train would leave in an hour, and she wouldn't miss it. Her shower was the work of minutes, adrenaline carrying her into high gear. She knew she would crash on the train, but that would be okay; then she would be awake for Joshua. She was out the door before 5, a small bag with her, her notes from the calls she'd made yesterday shoved carefully into her handbag. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she hadn't even applied mascara. She would put on her face later in the morning. True to her determination to not be late, Rose arrived on the platform nearly a quarter of an hour before the train was scheduled to leave.

She planned to check in at the hotel before heading to Springwood so she could stay with Joshua as long as possible. It would test her patience, but would be worth it in the end. Today was for them alone, but tomorrow she would have to share him with his family.

Since she was little, Rose had always enjoyed traveling in a direction other than the one she was facing. Sideways or backwards seats were still her favorites even though she'd grown up. She chose an empty chair that faced to the back and snuggled as best she could into the chair. It would be so much nicer to travel with someone. To have a hand to hold and a shoulder to use as a pillow. Maybe a warm leather jacket to curl up under.

Shrugging a little deeper into her hoody, Rose relaxed her body until she drifted to sleep.

* * *

Rose couldn't say that the grounds of Springwood were familiar, but neither were they completely foreign. She smiled and tipped the cabby as best as she could afford. The tech who met her at reception made a show of checking her purse and jacket before ushering her through to the hospital at large. While they walked, the tech asked pointed questions regarding her relationship with Joshua. She couldn't fathom what these pertained to so she gave as diplomatic answers as she could: polite, vague, and somewhat threatening should this unwanted behavior continue. If she were more cynical, she would think there was money on the line.

Led into what seemed to be a common room, Rose spied Joshua's pacing form across the room. There was an anxious grace in his movement, and the sight of him, right before her, stole her breath. A throat was cleared meaningfully by one of the people in the room. She meant to thank that person because she couldn't find it in her to move or speak, but Joshua looked up at her, and all thoughts of other occupants were lost in the shining of his eyes. She didn't know how those eyes got to be right in front of her. Did he move? Did she? Did it matter?

Worlds away, an Asian-accented voice was shooing people from the room. A door clicked shut. None of this registered to the two people that were left behind, alone in the room. Names were murmured, endearments were given and returned, but these were background radiation to the heat that flared between their eyes as they each assured themselves of the other's reality. And then, Joshua's head dipped, and Rose lifted her face, and they both sank happily into oblivion.

They broke apart only when oxygen deprivation threatened consciousness. Rose clung to Joshua as her head spun, gasping in the heady scent of him. When her breathing had slowed somewhat, Rose began to lavish attention on Joshua's neck, nipping and suckling the tempting skin there.

"We shouldn't," Joshua ground out as his hands clutched her closer. Rose paused in her ministrations long enough for him to finish his sentence. "Give them any more of a show."

Rose looked up and turned to follow his gaze to a camera for CCTV. Her breathing hitched when Joshua grasped her hips and tugged her back against his chest. She could feel his erection against the small of her back and smiled. "But, for the record," he murmured against her ear, "if those bastards weren't hoping to get their rocks off at the sight of you, I'd willingly have you here and now." Rose blushed at the rough speech and was surprised to find herself aroused and touched that she could strip away the gentleman he often was for her and expose the primal passion beneath.

With a glare at the camera, Rose took a step away from Joshua, even as she grasped his hand. "Introduce me to your friends?" He blinked down at her before grinning. Only she would assume there was enough good in him to make friends at rehab. He entwined his fingers with hers, adjusted the fit of his jeans, and tugged her towards the deeper bowels of the hospital.

* * *

Joshua was impressed. Not only had Rose managed to drag an almost chivalrous attitude from Son, gain a sincere smile from Zed, and practically become bosom buddies with Sherry, but Jamal was actually making small talk. Everyone looked on in awe as the former boxer offered an anecdote about the food. From the expression of wonder on Zed's face as he looked between the two, Joshua wouldn't be surprised if Rose had unwittingly inspired a new song.

All this bonding soon tired out Jamal, and he went off to immerse himself in a good workout. Around the same time, Zed wandered off muttering about needing a pencil. Sherry was soon called off for therapy, and Son, recognizing an ensuing third-wheel situation, bowed out gracefully.

They were alone in the room now, and Joshua closed the door slowly, part of him wanting to delay the inevitable and part of him desperate to get all this out into the open. He'd spent two weeks not talking to the people paid to listen to him, and now he needed to break the habit and lay the truth out for Rose.

She sat on his bed and he sat next to her, wondering, "Where to start," Joshua said quietly after a moment of fear.

She grinned. "Begin at the beginning, Alice?" she suggested, knowing that he had decided now was the time for the serious discussion he had said they needed to have.

He chuckled, then sobered slowly. "All right. Then, like Alice, I'm gonna have to ask you to believe several impossible things."

"Being with you kinda makes that easy," she replied. "I believed you when you told me about the green men that look like plants." She thought it important to remind him of this, because he was starting to look a little green, himself. She didn't want to push him, but he'd said they needed this, and she'd prepared herself as best she could to hear any number of incredible things.

He smiled. "Truth is, I can tell you one for just about every star in the sky, love. But if we're going back, to the beginning..." He took a deep breath. "You might've guessed I was an orphan. Have been since I was a baby. Don't know much about my parents. My mum was Uncle Alistair's sister, Verity, but he didn't really know her - she was older, left when he was young. Don't know anything about my father at all."

Rose nodded, empathy and tears standing in her eyes. She would identify with that one, wouldn't she?

"I assume tha's how I ended up as just 'Stewart', not 'Lethbridge-Stewart'. Not that I mind not havin' to write all that out when I sign me name. I was dragged up in Care for years before Uncle Alistair found me. Felt most of the time like I had a case number instead of a name." He shook his head as that thought and Zed's stupid tattoo tried to tangle around each other for some reason.

"Had very few friends when I was a kid. I didn't fit in and didn't want to fit in, wouldn't go with the system, didn't like it that everything was always done exactly the same way all the time. I was argumentative and stubborn and too clever by half besides. No one particularly could handle me.

"That doesn't surprise me," she said gently. "Well, I'd've thought you'd have more friends, but I'm betting you were surrounded by older kids because you were on their level brain-wise, yeah?"

"That's pretty much right. Did have one close friend, much older'n me." Joshua sighed. "He grew up to be a sociopath, died in prison."

Rose just tightened her grip on his hand.

"Uncle Alistair and Aunt Doris did their best to do right by me, and I think they did a good job, but not withou' a few bumps in the road, even back then. Biggest is the fact that I hate guns, generally, and Uncle Alistair, as you might have guessed, does not."

"But you were in the military?" she asked. She made it a question.

"Yeah," he said bitterly. "Didn't have anything else to do with meself. Just because I won't use a gun doesn't mean I can't." He frowned. "Sometimes you just don't get a choice any more."

She leaned into his shoulder supportively and he smiled at her, a weak, fragile smile that looked like it would crumble at any minute. "You can stop whenever you want," she said.

He shrugged and looked out the open window, his eyes on something distant that was probably deep in his past. "If I stop, I might never start again. I joined UNIT because I felt stuck, like I didn't have a choice. Not that Uncle Alistair made me, you understand, but more that... I couldn't belong anywhere else, so it'd have to do. My official title was 'Scientific Advisor', and it gave me a lot of authority and a lot of lee-way to be a right ass and a bully besides, sometimes. Then, again, there were times when I seriously needed to be. You see, UNIT has a very specific job, just like the Navy does ships and the Air Force does planes and stuff."

"OK," she agreed. "I think I can understand that, then. What is it?"

He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around him carefully. They were completely alone, but he still leaned close to her when he answered, "The extra-terrestrial."

She gaped at him. Her next words came breathless and she hardly moved her lips when she whispered, "What? Aliens? Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," he admitted, watching her eyes for signs of protest or doubt. There was incredulity there, but not the skepticism he was used to encountering over this sort of topic. Seeing her shocked acceptance, he decided to continue. "This stupid planet seems to attract the bastards of the Universe, too. Planet's been invaded by everything from robots from a twin planet we never knew existed to time-travelling dinosaurs."

Rose screwed her face up as if concentrating, trying to remember anything that would sound like an alien invasion to her. "How do they... I mean, it's not in any books or anything is it?"

"You can check the conspiracy sites on-line, if you want," he said grimly. "Sometimes they get one thing right. Or two. Most of the time, one or more groups cleans it up, covers it up. Funnily enough, more'n half these things happen right here."

"In England? Why? I'd've thought... I mean, all the movies make it seem like it'd be America."

He shook his head. "They usually get off easy, the lucky sods. Not last time, though. Last time someone tried to blow Earth up was around 1999, in San Francisco, and I was right in the middle of it then, too."

"Oh, Joshua, that's terrible. How...?"

He snorted. "Just lucky, I guess. Well, some of 'em come looking for me - the dual cardio-vascular system gives me away, and I do piss 'em off royally, some times." He shook his head. Before they let this wander completely into aliens, there was one thing she definitely needed to know.

"There's more, though. When I was young - really young - I had... Susan. Don't ask, I've no idea who her mother even was. They just brought her to me, said she was mine, and I couldn't... Rose, she was so beautiful, and I loved her so much. She would smile and she looked like joy made mortal. I was going to take her away with me, get her away from everything, make sure she didn't have the kind of childhood I had, but..." His free hand clenched into a fist as his mind tried to make sense of the memories that were there and the ones that he'd blotted out, the dreams he'd had for her and the reality of how it ended.

"She was there and gone like a summer breeze, Rose, snuffed out in an instant, just like so many things..."

Rose wrapped her arm around his shoulders and he shook under the weight of what he was saying, leaning into her for the calming support, for the strength she lent him so lovingly. Even now, when he knew he'd come to terms with her, both her presence and her loss, he missed Susan and everything he'd ever wanted for her. A silent wave of something warm and comforting washed over him, soothing the ache, gently offering sympathy for the pain and companionship for the loneliness.

When he finally felt he could speak again, he also felt like there wasn't much more to tell. "Anyway, something happened and I can't remember it. After it was over, though, I retired from UNIT and moved to London. Couldn't sleep or concentrate and went for a walk. Ended up in the pub, half tryin' ta kill meself, and someone saved my life instead." He looked into her eyes, touched her face with his free hand.

She shrugged and smiled reassuringly, even as she tilted her face into his touch. "Think you'd've figured it out on your own eventually."

"Maybe I would've," he said, "and maybe I wouldn't. But one thing I know I wouldn't have found at the bottom of the glass and that's you, Rose Tyler, and I think now that drownin' in that Pub was only worth it because you were there to drag me out."

"I'm glad I was there and I'm glad it was me and not someone else, because otherwise I wouldn't be with you right now. And that's where I want to be. With you, I mean."

He smiled and nodded. "Me, too," he agreed. "Just so you know, Bill's decided what's wrong with me, and it's PTSD, and that's all well and good, but I can't remember anything. Except..." He started to shake as the only memory he had, the sensation of constant horror, rolled over him. "It's like I didn't want to remember, like I blotted it out."

"Joshua, what is it? You said... except?"

"Except that everyone died." A single tear trickled down his cheek and she reached up to brush it away, but he stilled her hand, caught it, held it to his chest. "And I want to tell you Rose, but I'm so afraid you'll run. I'm afraid you should run."

"You can tell me anything you need to tell me, I'm not going anywhere. The only place I'm running is with you."

He nodded slowly and she reached up to stroke his hair. It just seemed like a soothing thing to do and his hair was soft and fuzzy, good for stroking. It seemed to help because he finally spoke again. "Rose, I'm really a very bad man. I may have more blood on my hands than any one else on this planet."

"How?" she asked, and refused to let him shake her. She had to believe him, since she'd forced herself to believe about the aliens and everything else. But she also had to believe that she knew him better than this, that bad men didn't regret or hurt or ache like this. Someone couldn't be evil and have a conscience like his, it just didn't make sense to her.

"Choices I've made, good ones, bad ones, people have died. Sometimes not making choices, refusing to decide, and people have died anyway. Sometimes having to choose between a lot of strangers or a friend and friends have died. Sometimes I wasn't fast enough and people have died. Sometimes I had to do the least bad of a whole bunch of bad things, and people have died."

He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. Well, actually, he seemed to be waiting for her to jump up and run away from him. "You're not an axe murderer," she told him. "You're not a murderer at all. You're a defender. And I'm sorry - I can't tell you how sorry I am that this all happened to you. I wish it could have happened some other way."

He gazed into her eyes with awed incredulity and she shivered at the sudden darkness she saw there. His pupils looked like the sky on a moonless night, and she felt if she looked long enough she would see eternity. "I've killed people with my bare hands," he grated out. "How can you..."

She put a finger over his lips. "Were they trying to do evil or hurt you or someone else?"

His brow knitted. "Last one was going to eat me, actually," he admitted.

She chuffed, a soft noise of frustration. "Well, Joshua, I can't blame you for not letting that happen. No one could. I'm not your judge, though, I'm the woman who loves you, but the way I see it, you can't help what you've had to do to save the world."

"I... Rose, I just..."

"When you remember more, you can tell me the details. If you want. You don't have to tell me anything, all right? But you asked me to believe you, so you have to believe me, too. I trust you. I think... I think I actually trust you more, now, when I know you've had to break your heart - hearts, I guess - to do the right thing sometimes."

"You do know you're a better therapist than all the doctors in this place?" he questioned after a few moments.

"I don't think they give those fancy papers for cuddle therapy," she replied dryly.

He grinned. "That what this is?" he asked.

He leaned into her touch and she smiled gently, coaxed him carefully to lie down on the bed, put his head in her lap. He looked up at her from this point of view and grinned broadly, his bright eyes batting closed in a kind of contentment that she had rarely seen in him before. "You wanna be careful getting me started on something like this, Rose. Next thing you know, you'll never be able to move without shovin' me off, first."

She grinned back at him, letting her tongue poke out through her teeth. "How's that a problem, then?" she asked gleefully.

He chuckled. He felt weak and exhilarated at once, wanted to run and shout her name to the heavens, and also curl up right here with her and sleep for a month. He was exhausted, but he felt, oddly, as if a wound that had been bleeding for a very long time was finally closed. "I feel like I made you up," he blurted, realizing as the words fell from his lips that they were true.

"What?" she asked, looking a little stunned.

"Like... I dunno. Like someone who loved me looked inside me and saw me and everything I am and everything I've done, and they took all that and put you here. You're perfect, Rose, everything I would ever wish for. You're too good for me, too good for words, and I don't deserve you. "

"You do if I say you do," she shot back, a little hotly. "Because you know something?"

"What?" he asked, a little warily.

"I think I would have wished for you, too. If I'd even known you were possible, I would have. Brave and a little crazy and not just interested in me for what's in my knickers. You believe things about me that I wanted to believe about myself. Even my mum's said that that's what love's really about. Being better with the person than you were without them. Liking who they make you realize you are. So I love you, Joshua Stewart, and nothing you can say is gonna change that."

He looked up into her dark eyes and watched her do something he'd never thought he'd ever see another person do. She smiled fiercely at him. He'd done it himself before, was doing it now, actually, the smile of one fully content that they'd made the right decision, done the right thing, and for once it was _truly_ right. "Rose," he said, "I love you, too."

She nodded and just stroked his hair gently.

"Rose?" he said, after a few minutes.

"Yes, Joshua?"

"I am interested in what's in your knickers."

She swatted his shoulder and they both laughed helplessly.


	36. Chapter 35

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has gotten onto IMDb and is apparently shopping for a new face. Jack's trying to talk him into becoming Hugh Jackman. We've offered to let him stay on the internet if he'll just sign the paperwork, but he's jiggery-pokeried something and now you can get an internet connection from the toaster. Mind, it doesn't make toast any more but all Jack said about that was that at least it wasn't the blender. At this rate he's liable to regenerate himself from a tragic toaster accident and the paperwork will never be signed.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 35:**

Rose decided that, rehab and uncomfortable bed aside, she was perfectly willing to have a go at staying like this forever. "I brought your mail," she said quietly to the man in her lap. Her fingers stroked softly along the curve of his ear, finding a great deal of interest in the way he muttered and leaned in to the touch.

"I have mail?" he asked, looking a bit surprised. "I never get mail."

She smiled softly. "Well, I think some of 'em are your bills."

"Gah," he complained softly. "Domestics. I had all that set up on the computer so I sorta forgot about it. What else?"

"Well, there's a note that I think's from the garage," she said. "And that's never good news."

He sighed. "Probably not. Although if they wrote the car off as a total loss, it wouldn't be a total loss, 'cuz the insurance could just pay it off and have done with it. Domestics, like I said, never did understand all the paperwork that has to go with owning stuff. S'like you can't get on with living your life 'cuz you're forever stuck in some queue somewhere fighting with bill collectors."

"Tell me about it," she agreed blandly. "And there's one more thing."

"What's that, love?"

"I made some phone calls on Friday, and I think I found out some stuff you might can use."

He sat up and stared at her. "Rose!" he exclaimed. "You... that's... Rose!"

She smiled nervously under his awestruck stare. He vaulted from the bed, snatched her up and, given the limited space in the small room, twirled her carefully around. She couldn't help laughing and burying her face in his chest, listening to the doubled throb under the soft chuckle. "So I did good?" she asked.

"Dunno yet," he said teasingly. "Let's see what you got."

She batted at his shoulder and pulled away from him to reach for her handbag. Or tried. He wouldn't let her go. "Thought you wanted to see what I found," she observed dryly.

"Changed my mind," he answered and lowered his head to kiss her.

Rose let herself fall into the kiss, and she fell hard. Her hands ventured under his jumper, seeking skin, delighting in the tremors under her hands as his body responded to her touch. She was lost, completely, when his hand came up and gently cupped her breast, long fingers stroking slowly over her nipple. He had touched her this intimately before, but it had been practically an accident, a light pass in the course of disentangling their bodies from sleep. Now, though, it was deliberate and curious and so very seductive. It set her blood to a slow boil and made her wonder if that shagging against a wall idea she'd had earlier in the week was such a bad one.

He pulled back from her and touched her lip with a cool fingertip. "No, no," he murmured softly. "Not going to give in to that at all, Rose Tyler." He kissed her, light and chaste this time, and then leaned back against the wall, drawing her into a comfortable embrace. He whispered low, dark promises against her hair as he held her. "I'm going to take my time with you, Rose. Shut out the phones and the clocks and the world itself, and its going to be just you and me and what we both want. I'm going to touch you everywhere, taste you everywhere. I want you to touch me, too. I'm going to drive you so high you can smell star light and I'm going to keep you there until the only word you remember is my name."

She stood there and trembled as the words washed over her, as her heart thundered, as her mind simultaneously surrendered to the idea and protested waiting that long. "Not if you keep talkin' like that, you're not," she decided. "You keep talking like that an' I'll have you, right here, an' I don't care who knows." She grinned up at him, then, letting her tongue poke out through her teeth. "Bet you'll scream," she added huskily, and rocked her hips against his, where the press of their bodies together gave obvious indication of how hard this was for him. Literally.

"Minx," he murmured, and caught her hips. "You first."

He might very well have gone through with it, too, at least if the dark, hungry, burning look in his eyes was any indicator, but there was a knock at the door. Joshua pulled away from her and swore, softly and fluently. "What?" he asked, in a voice that turned even that four letter word into, well, a four letter word.

"Maintenance," the voice on the other side of the door replied. "Got a complaint about the lights in there."

"Right," he said. He reached over and took Rose's hand. She snagged her bag and they left the room together, walking around a man with hair the strangest color of yellow Rose had ever seen and an arm full of light bulbs.

Joshua sighed. "Idiots," he muttered.

"Yeah," Rose agreed flippantly. "Dunno if it was smart to piss you off on top of being weird."

He chuckled ruefully. "Good point. I s'pose, though, it's just as well. Not plannin' on bein' interrupted, you know. Remind me to disassemble the doorbuzzer in the flat, will you?"

"It'll end up like the blender, won't it?" she asked cheekily. "C'mon, show me around this place."

He sighed. "Yeah, all right."

* * *

Joshua was rather surprised when Zed walked up to him as he was showing Rose the game room, carrying a large basket. "Thought you two might like to take a picnic for supper instead of enduring the dining hall," he said, a bit shyly and animatedly for his usual personality.

Joshua grinned. "Thanks, Zed, this is fantastic."

"I just figured it out," Rose said. "You're Zed Elysian, right?"

Zed nodded gravely. "Yeah," he said. "Well, Alan Ellis, but call me Zed, everyone does."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "You... get better, soon, ok? And thanks, for this."

"Any time," Zed answered and, shooting Joshua a knowing look, turned to wander off with that deliberately morbid manner he usually had.

"You know, that's just so... wrong," Rose said softly.

"What?" Joshua wondered, a bit uncomfortable with her sudden fascination with Zed, if the truth were to be wrung out of him.

"Well, everyone thinks - I mean, everyone on the Estate thinks, anyway - that having money and being able to do whatever you want automatically makes you happy. S'not true, though, is it? I mean, he's not Brittany Spears, but he's got a couple albums out and stuff." She shook her head. "Let's go find a good place to hide, and you can tell me about your video game therapy and I can tell you what I found out on the phone."

"Bein' famous helped him out with one thing, though," Joshua said. "He seems to be good at bribing the techs in the kitchen."

Rose smiled softly as they walked out onto the grounds. "I just think this is all so sad. Not you, I mean. But like Sherry. She'll be back here again in six months, next time she has another breakup with that boyfriend of hers, because there's actually something wrong with her an' even if they fix it, she refuses to keep up the treatment. That, and making the same mistake of going back to that bloke all the time. And Jamal, this place is just a temporary fix for him, isn't it?"

"Sure you're not a doctor?" he asked, echoing the words she'd asked him the first time she came by his flat.

She beamed at him, but didn't seem to realize how serious he was. She just... knew. Understood. She was fantastic and that was just the beginning.

He found a spot near the back hedge where they were reasonably shielded from view by a large decorative plant and spread a table cloth from the top of the basket out on the ground. Rose grinned and threw herself down, then tugged her purse into her lap and began rummaging through it.

"Right," she said, as Joshua settled himself and started pulling out the contents of the basket. "I found out who used to be the maintenance company here, right, an' I called them."

"All right," he agreed, and offered her one of the sandwiches. She shrugged and took it and flipped open the tab on the Coke. "Don't think I'd've ever thought of that."

"Well, the contract came up for bid six months ago, right? I guess they have to say how much they'll work for and stuff?"

"Usually. Like an auction, in reverse."

"Yep," she agreed. "Well, they expected to win because they had in a really low offer. Don't worry, I got this off a gossipy temp so she won't be ratting me out about it, just so you know. Anyway, turns out this other company turns up at the last minute an' just stole things right out from under 'em. And the temp lady said her boss complained the whole time the change over was happenin' - about three months ago - that the new company kept bringin' in all this weird equipment he'd never seen before an' claimin' it would clean things better an' stuff like that. Well, but she said it served Springwood right, because their ratings have been going straight down hill. I guess the place didn't used to be a dump?"

"Probably was still a dump," Joshua observed dryly. "Just with better lighting maybe?"

She laughed. "Think I'll ask Wilson about that, 'cuz it's pretty damn consistent, you know."

Joshua blinked in surprise. It actually was consistent, one light in every bank was almost inevitably out. The only places all the lights always worked were in the offices, like Bill's and Greg's. "I... didn't even notice that. Huh. Clever girl."

"Thanks," she answered, and nibbled reflectively at her sandwich. "Oh, something interesting that temp girl told me, right? The minute they took over the basement, the new team wouldn't let the old one in. She knew that 'cuz they sent the bloke she was dating up here to pick up some equipment they'd forgotten. First time, they wouldn't let him in, denied they'd even seen it. Second time, they sorta chucked it at him. Mind, she said it was a pity they'd missed, but I think she mighta been joking."

"How in the world did you get her to tell you all this?"

"God, long story, the woman could talk for England, Joshua, I swear she could. All I had to do was catch her attention and before you knew it I had her life story."

"That might just be you. I never would have thought of any of this, Rose, and it's important information. Thank you, so much." He opened a packet of crisps and toyed with one of them while he talked.

"You don't think they're dangerous, do you?" she asked, her eyes dark and worried.

"Nah," he assured her, though she didn't look convinced. He ate his crisp, and used his other hand to brush her hair out of her eyes. "Really, Rose. They're just annoying, is all, and I don't like mysteries. Could be - probably is - something simple like this company secretly belongs to the director's kid so it's conflict of interest. Just something like that. Just got a nose for secrets, me, an' curiosity isn't something that's healthy for me - don't seem to be able to control it, most of the time."

She nodded. "All right," she agreed. "Satisfy my curiosity then. Tell me about this "video game" thing."

They shared a quiet meal and a long, wandering conversation, drifting off topic and back onto it, flirting incessantly, driving each other to distraction with simple gestures. There was quite a lot of kissing in there, too. Joshua was very happy about that part, especially, and he was reasonably certain Rose liked it, too.

* * *

"But seriously," Son asked, sitting across from Rose in one of the chairs in the common room, "why him?"

Rose shook her head, unable to fight the grin. Joshua had stepped into the loo and she was just going to wait for him here when she'd been descended on by the same crowd she'd met earlier. She couldn't even begin to guess what this was all about, and she doubted she could really answer the question in a way that would make sense to them. He was... Joshua. His eyes, his smile, the way he moved, the way he talked, what he _said _when he talked... She could go on for days. In fact, if she got started, she might never shut up. There was always something, had been from the minute she met him, even before he'd finally taught Jimmy that a big mouth and a big attitude did not a big man make.

Now, there was so much more, of course. At first, she'd just noticed that he seemed empty and lost and searching. The night she'd finally decided to give up on Jimmy and Jimmy'd decided he wouldn't let her, that had only served to convince her that he was someone worth knowing. Every thing since then, though, that was what made for what she was sure now would be the love of her life. "I wouldn't know where to begin," she said.

"I'm telling you," insisted Sherry, "it's gotta be the smile. That's the only thing that even makes him look human."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Well, he is beautiful when he smiles, yeah," she agreed.

"So is that it, then?" insisted Son.

"Can't be his eyes," Zed said, and shivered. The others winced and nodded.

"Why not? They're gorgeous."

They all looked at her incredulously, except Jamal, who seemed to be only slightly interested in the conversation, as if he'd pretty much decided to come along with the others out of habit more than anything else.

She shrugged. "What do you want me to say?" Rose asked, cheerfully.

"They just want to know why you picked him in the first place," Jamal explained. "Not that we'll understand your answer. Not that you will, either."

That was such a strange way to phrase it, but it sort of made sense to her, so she thanked Jamal politely. "He's right, you know," she added to the others.

"But isn't there anything specific?" Sherry whined.

"Oh, come on, I'd love to tell you, but I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition."

On that cue, Joshua's voice replied with, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!"

Rose started laughing, and jumped from her seat to go to him. She tugged him back to the chair and shoved him down into it, sitting herself happily in his lap where, it felt, she fit perfectly. His arms went around her waist, his chin on her shoulder. "Don't tell them," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded very, very slightly and felt him grin. She changed the subject entirely. "So do you have family visiting tomorrow, Son?"

"My daughter and her husband," he said with a cheerful smile. "Hopefully, they'll bring the children, but I'm not sure."

Sherry's sister was visiting and bringing her dad, too, apparently. Zed had informed his agent that if his mum turned up, he was sending someone to break both of the man's legs, and Jamal had a whole flock of cousins coming to see him, he thought.

They talked for a few more minutes before a bloke called Greg, who was apparently a vicar of some sort turned up. He offered Rose a lift back to her hotel and, better than that, offered to pick her up on his way in in the morning. "It'll be early, though, I hope you don't mind."

Mind? She would get up at half four in the morning again if she had to do to spend more time with Joshua.

They exchanged a lingering kiss goodbye and a few soft words, promises, pleas, she didn't know. What she did know for sure was the last thing he whispered to her before sending her off with Greg. "I'll be thinking about you all night long," he assured her, in that deep, sensual tone.

She wasn't sure if it was a blush or a flush or both as heat went skittering all over her nerve endings to settle in a puddle low in her belly. "Me, too," she whispered back, and then she had to leave him for the night.

She began to hope, with the way she felt his eyes caressing her every line and curve as she walked away, that there would come a time very soon when she'd never have to say goodnight to him from anywhere but in his bed.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on and on for Rose. She felt like she woke every twenty minutes, even though she probably hadn't, and when she dragged herself from her rented bed when she gave it up completely, she took a twenty minute shower just to wake up. Downstairs in the lobby, there were danishes as well as coffee, so she indulged in two cups of the bitter brew, checked out of her room, and waited for Greg in front of a telly which seemed stuck on the market reports.

Her second arrival at Springwood was much like the first, except that Greg's presence seemed to cut down on the superfluous questioning. He walked her down to the common room where Joshua was waiting for her, his head bowed over a book.

She thought briefly of just standing to watch him for a moment, but the second she entered the room, he seemed to just sense her presence. As though she stirred something in the very air, his head shot up and then she was in his arms, no apparent passage of time between when he'd seen her and when he snatched her up in a tight embrace. Just like yesterday, he was kissing her in the space of a heart beat and Rose let herself fall into his kiss and into his arms.

She was home.

* * *

"So how are your Merry Men today?" Rose teased cheerfully some time later in the morning.

"Merry Men?" Joshua asked and started laughing. "Oh, ya don't realize what you just brought down on yourself, do you?" She looked delightfully confused and bewildered, and he decided he loved that expression as much as all the other ones. He brushed at his face where his eyes had actually started watering from the laughter, and wrapped his arm around her. "C'mon, then, Rose 'Maid Marion' Tyler, an' we'll take a walk through Springwood Forest."

Rose blushed a very fetching pink, which he followed with his eyes until it disappeared under her little red blouse. "I didn't realize you knew my middle name," she blurted.

"Your mum shouts it every time she sees you around me, can't imagine how I'd've missed it." He grinned broadly, knowing there was probably a bounce in his step as they walked out onto the grounds, not caring in the slightest that he probably looked completely besotted. He was, so what was the point in hiding it?

"What's your's then?"

He shrugged. "Haven't got one. Boring, me."

"An' you think being named after a flower isn't boring? Used to hate it when I was a kid but..." She grinned, her tongue poking out through her teeth teasingly. "It's sorta grown on me," she punned outrageously.

Joshua groaned. "Oh, you are so lucky I love you. That was awful."

"You do one, then," she said.

"A pun? No thanks, I'd rather choke. There are planets out there, you know, where that sort of thing had only one _pun_ishment."

She snorted and stifled a giggle behind her hand. "And what's that then?"

"They make 'em read War and Peace," he answered dryly. "In the original French."

"No!" she shrieked cheerfully. "No, wait. Isn't War and Peace Russian?"

And they were off on yet another long conversation of obscure history and legends and before long, Joshua found that they had reached the sprawling old tree with the bowed and spreading limbs. "So," said Rose, "is this your tree, then?"

Joshua nodded and turned to smile at her, only to find her hanging from the lowest branch. "Want a leg up?" he offered.

"You just want to touch my legs," she teased, still scrambling to find purchase.

"Well, on that point I have to admit to being guilty," he agreed.

She suddenly stabilized and hoisted herself up, dangling precariously until she found a steady perch. "You coming or not?"

He snagged hold of the branch and lifted himself up on it, settling himself next to her comfortably. "You a champion tree climber or something?" he asked, delighted with her easy grace as she settled in next to him.

"Could ask the same question, but I was in gymnastics when I was little. Got the bronze in my last competition."

He nodded, amused at the mental image of a tiny Rose proudly showing off her medal like a young Olympian. "You've still got it, then," he observed, glancing around them at the grounds below. "I used to climb trees when I was a kid. Used to drive my teacher mad. He'd come looking for me and I'd be up a tree with a book. Never knew if he thought I would break a leg or if he thought I was doing something dangerous."

"Bet you were a terrible prankster."

Joshua felt his ears go pink at this incredibly accurate assessment. "Well, but he was a humorless old vulture, Borusa, we had ta do something. Glued him to his chair, once. Changed all our marks to gold stars, once. Filled his office with packing foam, that sort of thing." He shrugged. "We were bored."

Rose giggled. "I can just imagine you, all eyes, ears, and long legs. S'pose that's how you ended up with that Northern accent?"

"Yeah," he agreed, shrugging, "guess so. Shoulda seen the look on Son's face when I told him I speak Chinese."

"Shocked?" she asked.

"He was trying not to laugh because the accent still sorta comes through. I told him in Mandarin, by way of Manchester."

She laughed happily and leaned into him carefully. "This is nice," she observed, and put a hand on his thigh.

"Oi, now," he protested teasingly. "You not gonna let me touch your legs and then you go an' paw mine."

"Didn't say you couldn't," she teased back. "An' you're the one who said you were guilty."

He looked at her, longing in every fiber of his being to touch a lot more than just her legs. "As sin," he answered darkly, and drew her face up for a kiss.

"You two take all the fun out of teasing you," came a familiar voice from the ground below.

Joshua broke the kiss, looked down, and grinned broadly. "'Lo, John," he called. "Shoulda known you'd turn up."

"Like a bad penny," John answered cheerfully. "C'mon down, your Aunt thinks you're probably starving."

"That woman's tryin' to make me as big as a house," Joshua confided to Rose.

Rose eyed him speculatively. "Well, you have lost weight," she said with a shrug. "But I think you're gorgeous."

He grinned. "And I think you're fantastic," he replied and tapped her nose. "Blind, maybe, but fantastic."

"Gonna get you for that."

"Have ta catch me first," he said and dropped through the tree branches to the ground. Rose scrambled to follow him and he wrapped his arms around her legs as they descended into his reach. "Let go, I've got you."

She did, and he rather enjoyed the way she wiggled and slid slowly down his body. As her hips brushed his, he felt the heady rush of arousal and bit his lip over a moan. She wrapped her legs around his waist, buried her face in his neck and, apparently, found a good spot to nibble.

He had her pinned against the tree before even he could say exactly what happened, his lips over hers, his hands at her waist, aware they were in public, but also aware that they had two weeks of not touching to make up for. He explored her mouth slowly but hungrily, determined to evoke that gasping whimper at least before he let her go.

Of course, there was the audience. "Any time you're ready, then," John said, after clearing his throat.

Joshua pulled away from Rose, reluctantly. He thought about being disappointed until he reached to take her hand. He decided then that he was completely satisfied, at least for now, with the pleasure drunk smile on her face and the slightly unsteady way she wobbled into him before they set off to find his family.

Aunt Doris gave him one of her wonderful hugs, then kissed his cheek and studied his eyes. "You look so much better, Joshua," she said firmly.

"Thanks," he answered and pushed his hand across his hair. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, Joshua. We brought lunch, since you said the grounds were so nice."

"Works for me," he said, and turned to find his uncle beaming at him proudly. "I did good?" he asked.

"Yes, you did," the Brigadier answered. "Very good."

Joshua grinned. "Fantastic!"

He let Rose lead his aunt and uncle to their picnic spot from yesterday and dropped back to say hello to Harry and properly say something to John. Just as they were coming up to join him, he realized they were in the middle of some conversation that was apparently all about upsetting Harry. As usual.

"I'm just asking. Is a tree any different from a wall?"

"Someday, Benton, I'm going to just give up and punch you," Harry replied, his face bright red from whatever that was about.

"My money's on Harry," Joshua decided, and grinned at them both.


	37. Chapter 36

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. OV has managed to contract some sort of inner ear problem. She refuses to call it an infection, because that is something only children get. She has been milking this for all it's worth, claiming dizzy spells in which she needs support from the nearest gorgeous time traveler. At this rate, the papers are more likely to dropped during one of these "episodes" and trampled than signed. Jessa has requested the Doctor "cure" her. By whatever means necessary. Although none of us are too sure about the look Jack got over that suggestion. **

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 36:**

They spent a cheerful afternoon out on the grounds, mostly listening to Joshua tell stories about the Rehab Center and the people he'd met here. The Brigadier shook his head with some bemusement as his nephew finished explaining about how he'd been taught to play video games by some young punk rock star and Rose mentioned they'd have to see if they could find the system for him when he came back to London.

It was amazing to him the effect the young woman had on the Doctor. He smiled around her - he laughed. The Brigadier had known the man for years even before the War and the Doctor had never been one for simple, light-hearted pleasures such as laughter. Back when all this had started, the Brigadier had thought that the act of being in love would be good for the Time Lord, but he'd never thought - never dared to hope - that it would be this good for him. _She_ was good for him.

What did it matter, really, if they were all going to go mad before this was over trying to keep secrets within secrets? Even the Doctor couldn't just walk away from a relationship like this one was turning out to be, surely? He'd asked for two years, and unless World War Three broke out in that time, the Brigadier meant to see to it that he had every minute of it. Rose didn't look to be planning on going any where any time soon, and Joshua obviously wasn't keen to let her out of his sight.

It had felt so strange at first, not to mention dangerous, to take the Doctor in and call him family. Not that the alien hadn't always been welcome, because he had. That upstairs bedroom that Joshua called his had been set aside long before this. Maybe they had had to replace every mirror in that part of the house (the Doctor shattered most of them with a fist, but the Brigadier still didn't know for sure how he'd broken the first one). Maybe they were experiencing varying levels of terror over the uncertainty about what the Time Lord would and could do. In the end, however, it was worth it to see the alien eyes shining as they looked with humor out on the world around him.

* * *

Since so many families were present that day, there were quite a few amusing activities, including the rather interesting water gun battle that the adolescents and their guardians got to indulge in on the lawn. As near as Joshua could tell it was kids versus adults, with the kids getting the upper hand more often than not from simple sneaky tactics and vindictive and clever little minds.

Of course, they couldn't escape completely without being reminded they were in Rehab and, over a rather nicer than usual Tea, pamphlets on living with them were handed out to family members. Rose, he noticed, neatly tucked hers away while Uncle Alistair immediately perused his copy for pertinent information before shrugging and pocketing it while they relocated themselves to the common room.

Then, there was Harry. "How are you doing?" Dr. Sullivan wanted to know, drawing him off to the side while Rose and John entertained his aunt and uncle with an odd conversation about the various problems of the retail center in London where John's Gym was located.

"No adverse reactions. Can't get a handle on the damn dreams, but I did manage to talk them out of prescribing something."

"That's probably for the best, but I am sorry about that."

"Don't have 'em as much as long as I go to bed exhausted."

"How do you manage that?"

"Running," Joshua said proudly. "Lots and lots of running." He didn't add that he usually stayed awake for days at a time - Harry didn't need to know that any more than Bill did, though for entirely different reasons.

Speaking of the devil. "'Lo, Bill," Joshua said to the little psychiatrist who was circulating the room. He seemed to be trying to be available for questions. "Dr. Sullivan, meet Dr. Hendy."

They were off, chattering at each other in a language that, while Joshua understood it completely, he found he was utterly disinterested in participating. Since they weren't talking about him, but apparently about the practice of medicine in general, he turned back to the others and let the meeting of medical minds have fun with itself. "That's Bill," he told the others, "my shrink."

"He's... pink," Rose said warily.

Joshua grinned. "Seems like, yeah," Joshua agreed. "You should hear him talk. It's painful. We're playing chess, only he doesn't know."

John snorted and Aunt Doris shook her head at him. "You behave, Joshua," she ordered, but there was a light, teasing quality to her tone as she said it.

"I try," he said. "An' honestly, Bill doesn't bother me so much anymore. He's a decent bloke if you can get around his voice. Besides, he let me watch your DVD in peace."

Bill came over to return Harry after a few minutes and Joshua introduced him around. He was particularly interested in the Brigadier, of course, and Rose. Uncle Alistair, who seemed to have decided that the psychiatrist was entirely too fluffy to be taken seriously was distantly polite, in a manner that only those present were aware was completely condescending. Aunt Doris chided him after the fact, but he put her off with a quick, "Nonsense."

Rose, meanwhile, was as kind and friendly as ever, but Joshua thought she rather regarded the little man with the same sympathy she regarded any of the other denizens of this place. He chuckled when Bill walked away, looking quite bewildered. Joshua supposed Bill had probably expected to find something obviously off about Rose. He also supposed they'd end up talking about it tomorrow.

In the meantime, he had only a few more moments with her until they were back to the world of phone calls and waiting. He took her hand, stroking her fingers gently, and thinking that the end of June couldn't get here fast enough.

* * *

"Reluctance" wasn't a strong enough word to describe Rose's attitude towards leaving that evening. Neither were "begrudging", "recalcitrant", or "loath", but they gave the general idea.

However, night's lilac trumpeters were streaming across the sky, heralding their master's arrival, and in the morning, work would beckon forbiddingly. The Brigadier went to pull the despised van around and Doris quickly shooed the boys out in front of her.

Even so, Rose and Joshua lingered over good-bye, exchanging tender words and even more tender kisses, saying the words "good night" at least six times apiece. Their last kiss for now was a heart-breaking thing because Rose couldn't help wondering how long it would be before she could see him again.

She watched from the window long after he was away from her, long after Springwood itself had faded from sight. She didn't know now and hoped she never had to find out how she would ever leave him again.

* * *

Joshua, having never needed a clock in his life, was starting to seriously entertain the notion that Springwood Hospital had been pulled into a temporal anomaly. Someone had poured treacle into the hourglass; the sand had become so reluctant to surrender to gravity that he imagined the little grains clinging to each other for purchase to fight their inevitable slide into the past. "Hours crawled by like years," to quote Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and even the turn of the Earth felt desultory and weary.

He found himself spending quiet hours over the poem for Rose he had started after Beltane, and passed more time than he would have liked to admit staring at the maintenance workers. One or two of them seemed to turn up every where he was, except outside, so he spent a lot of time up his tree, making notes, trying to find some conclusion that would allow him to at least determine their planet of origin.

So far, he'd decided that neither Earth's sunlight nor intense florescent light agreed with them. That tended to suggest they were from a world under a hotter, paler sun. That they'd been here approximately four to six months, which information he owed to Rose, allowed him to eliminate certain goals common to both visitors and invaders.

The plastic thing annoyed him to no end. He'd caught more of them nibbling at the so-called cutlery, but what was really surprising was the one who'd eaten Sherry's teaspoon after breakfast Tuesday hadn't been seen since.

He decided that Miss Carstairs was entertaining a crush on him. It was the only possible explanation for why the woman was hovering over him all the time, even going so far as to brush at his jacket from time to time and once, he'd be willing to swear he'd felt her hand toying with his hair. He'd walked out on her, only to be chased down by an overly helpful Greg who was, apparently, trying to make peace between them.

His talks with Rose were the only thing convincing him that time was still passing apace in this place. The fragile truce she and Jackie had going seemed to be holding for the moment and he was glad for her although he had to admit that he didn't mind her having an excuse to spend the night in his flat, in his bed.

Maybe _their _bed. That would be fantastic.

Bill was having him work on his goals for after Rehab and Joshua had, so far, not managed to come up with a lot. Stay sober, stay busy, stay out of the pub. He hadn't mentioned aloud, though he definitely thought it, that "keep Rose Tyler naked in my arms" was a very, very good goal, even if it would be very hard to keep. She had a job and a life, after all and, although she might find it a good idea herself, she would inevitably feel that she needed to keep to her responsibilities.

Some nights, he entertained the notion of finding a good reason to blow up Henrick's Department Store.

Bill had finally surrendered his bishop and point blank asked Joshua about Rose's age. Joshua had toppled a pawn to admit that eighteen had seemed a bit young to him at first, but Rose herself had laid those fears to rest with her ready acceptance of their different stages in life.

He didn't cash in the Queen to tell Bill he was almost certain he would still lose her eventually. He understood the root of that fear - a lifetime of loss and grief had led with near inevitably to abandonment issues.

He did decide, in the early dawn of a particularly long and sleepless night that he was going to break another very bad habit he'd had all his life. The time he had with Rose Tyler might be limited and he didn't want to waste one more minute of it.

* * *

Looking back on the days that followed her weekend visit with Joshua, Rose was always willing to concede that time had ground most of the way to a screeching halt. It was all go to work, come home, eat chips, and go to bed. If it hadn't been for the phone calls from him each night, she thought she might have gone completely spare.

Doris called her on Wednesday with a slight reprieve - an invite to dinner for the weekend. Rose looked forward to it, mostly. Joshua's family were the nicest sort of people, who never looked down on her for her station in life and had welcomed her. As far as it was possible for her complete outsider status, they had tried to make her comfortable with them.

She just wished her mum could return some semblance of the same courtesy. Jackie Tyler wasn't roundly damning Joshua at every interval, and she hadn't done anything so stupid as get back together with James or bring home another sibling for her, but the truce was definitely fraying at the edges. Jackie was staying out of the pub and Rose never went any more and, as near as Rose could tell, they were sort of driving each other spare just from spending too much time together.

Shireen, blessed, wonderful, fantastic Shireen, came up with the solution that saved the day, at least for a little while longer.

Rose was at Joshua's flat again, thumbing through her newest selection of library books - these on post-traumatic stress disorder - when Shireen rang her and demanded that she join "the gang" after work tomorrow. Rose had been set for this argument, ready to put her foot down, when Shireen informed her that, instead of the pub, they were all meeting at the coffee shop.

Rose could have cried with relief. To find a place where her friends could and would still hang out, to have a way to not spend the evening watching telly with her mum, and to know that Shireen was thinking of Rose when she planned these little get-togethers, it was all almost overwhelming.

What was more, Keisha would come to this place, too. Keisha hadn't been down the pub more than once a month in a year and they'd all missed her. Mickey complained about it constantly, in fact. If Rose didn't know better, she'd swear he had a crush on the tiny girl. Mind, he might have done and decided to entertain it now that he knew Rose was lost to him.

Of course, Rose and Shireen were both still convinced that Trent had a crush on Mickey but they'd, neither one of them, ever said.

Rose was so excited about the whole idea of the get-together, in fact, that she invited Wilson to come along. She'd never considered inviting him to the pub - he wasn't completely posh, Wilson, but Jenny's place wasn't exactly his sort of thing.

Wilson, while he'd been gushy and thrilled with the invite, had to bow out as he had a date that night. Rose told him he was getting to be just like her mum and they'd had a bit of a balled up tissue fight that had only been interrupted by Stephanie being... Stephanie.

And then, once the shrew had cleared out, Wilson dropped a bomb-shell on her.

"I dunno if you've thought about it, Rose. I wouldn't have even suggested it when you first started working here, but now... you've just... you've become more self-confident, and I think you'd need a lot of self-confidence to succeed at something like this."

He handed her a pamphlet from City College about getting her A-levels. Rose stared at it in shock. "Just think about it," he said. "You don't have to do it now, obviously, but if you sign up while you're still eighteen, you don't have to pay most kinds of fees and stuff."

She would never have thought of this, never even considered it, not before. She might not want to do it now, either, because it wasn't, she didn't think, this kind of education that she really wanted out of life. But by the same token...

"Look, talk it over with Joshua. I'd suggest your mum, but she'd probably just tell you we're all giving you airs. Talk to him, he's got a clearer head where you're concerned."

Rose thought about the tree. She thought about the dark, sensual promises. She thought about the fact that she was going to explode from wanting him before June was over, and that he didn't seem too far behind her on that, although now that she thought about it, him behind her was...

"Earth to Rose!" Wilson said, laughing teasingly at her while what was very probably a crimson blush crept up her cheeks. "I meant he's got a more realistic attitude about your future. Your mum, from everything you said, seems determined to keep you on the Estate all your life."

Rose thought about saying something true, but the cheeky come back was already out of her mouth. "Nah, all mums want their daughters to marry a prince on a white horse. Mine never did read her fairy tales very well."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"The bloke on the white horse? He don't rescue shop-girls, he rescues princesses."

Wilson chuckled. "Bet Joshua would rescue you," he teased.

Rose smiled. "Probably. Depends on how much trouble the princess was in, I guess." She shook her head. "Never mind, though. His horse? It'd be black."

"Black?" Wilson asked.

Rose shrugged. "Yeah. Or, I dunno, some color a horse usually isn't."

They talked for the rest of their break, and then it was back to folding sweaters, and trading veiled insults with Stephanie for the rest of the day. Rose was learning quite a lot of very good words being around Joshua and doing all that reading. She'd gotten to the point now that she could say quite a few very insulting things without the other girl even catching on. Quite aside from the satisfaction of getting one up on Stephanie, there was the joy of knowing that one of them might be a dumb blonde, but it wasn't Rose Tyler.

* * *

Joshua groaned in frustration and sank back against the tiled wall of the shower stall. He wasn't going to survive another three weeks without Rose. He was beginning to doubt he was going to make it another week.

On their last phone call, she cheerfully informed him that she'd slept at the flat on Friday night, slept in his bed. Then she'd told him what she wore to bed - one of his t-shirts and her knickers. Finally, because she did _too_ have a way with words, after all, the minx, she let him know exactly how turned on it got her, lying there, thinking of lying there with him, letting every single burning promise he had made her go drifting through her memory.

He went to bed with an almost painful erection and then, to seal his doom, he dreamt of Rose. And now, he couldn't get the images out of his mind.

Rose, lying alone in his big bed. Coming home to find Rose, wrapped in nothing but his blankets and his scent. Covering her beautiful body with nothing that hid her from him - his hands, his kisses, his own long, lanky body. Bathing her with his tongue, laving each unsurpassed little part of her with tiny, worshipful strokes. Bowing humbly before her - between her parted thighs - the warmth of her welcome all the heat he would ever need, the only home fire he would ever want. To never have another taste in his mouth that wasn't spiced with Rose and desire and love.

His slender, calloused hand reached to cut the water temperature. A wicked impulse, however, had that hand wrapped around his shaft, instead, stroking slowly. He shook his head and smiled a little deprecatingly. She did this to him, made him want things he hadn't wanted in what felt like eons, made him feel things. It was almost a tribute to her power over him, to give in to this, for once, to imagine.

He imagined kissing her mouth, and feeling her body rise to him in the frenzied meeting of softly parted lips. Gasps, moans, words would litter the air around them. Touch her, taste her, take her, mark her. Claim her forever, and be claimed in return.

A long, slow stroke, a twist of the wrist. A vivid, gifted imagination substituting his own cool fingers with the hot little hand that had never been there before. His real senses told him he was alone in the room. His lying ones told him, if he just closed his eyes, he could see her before him.

She would be exquisite, like the moonlit rain she smelled of, like the stars she completely outshone, like... like Rose. A goddess made mortal and brought to Earth to wait for him, to be worshipped by him alone.

Old sinner that he was, he would never be worthy, and she loved him anyway.

He stifled a groan as his hand tightened to a nearly punishing grip. His strokes became faster. He just needed the release, just this once, to let it go. She was a fire in his blood and a balm to his soul, all at once, and he just needed this moment, just to know... something other than waiting.

He let his hips move to match his hand's rhythm, imagined his Rose, wrapped around him, enclosing him. He thought of all the ways he could make her scream for him, cry out for him, shatter under him.

His mind was awhirl with so many perfect, illusory images that the climax built like a tidal wave and washed him under in only moments. His orgasm was a silent ecstasy, an indulgence that he longed to share with her.

He let the warm water wash over him and couldn't imagine how he was going to wait so long to show her everything she did to him.

* * *

"Hey, Joshua," Zed's voice rang out over the dining room.

Joshua went over and took a seat across from Zed, next to Jamal. Saturday breakfast was never worth touching and he wasn't having it today, no matter what anyone said.

"Did you hear the news?" Son asked.

"What news?" Joshua wondered warily.

"Greg's quit," Zed said. "Well, they said he quit. I dunno."

"Greg?" Joshua asked, surprised. "But I thought he sorta liked the place or something.

"That's just it," Son agreed. "No one knows why he quit or anything."

Joshua frowned. Not good.

"Rumor has it he didn't even turn in a notice," Sherry added.

The frown deepened to a scowl. Really, really not good.


	38. Chapter 37

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We have no idea what happened to us. Something about a Vortex, a wormhole, and a tesseract, all getting cocked into a cup of tea due to some argument between Jessa and the Doctor over the nature of reality. They finally got us back, three weeks later, and now Jack is demanding OV take Jessa's copy of "A Complete History of Time" away from her.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 37:**

Possibility number one. Greg really had quit. A man of the cloth with a lifetime vocation had, for whatever unexpected reason, really walked away from a job he enjoyed and a commitment he had made to his faith. Joshua snorted. He knew it had happened before and would certainly happen again, but usually there was some sort of indication that something like this was looming. He thought back and tried to remember if he had seen anything that would suggest that sort of impending change. After awhile, he decided he didn't know Greg well enough to be certain, but he sort of doubted it.

Possibility number two. Greg had known or found out something about the aliens on the premises and been murdered for it. It wouldn't be the first time this had happened to someone, either, not by a long shot. He remembered having been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time on more than one occasion himself, resulting in threats and near fatalities.

Possibility number three. Something utterly unrelated to this place had happened to the man. Coincidence happened, after all. Joshua almost laughed at himself over that one. Coincidence happened, but not anywhere near so often as people liked to think it did.

Joshua closed his notebook, clambered down from his tree, and went inside to see what he could find out without pulling UNIT in on this. Until he was absolutely certain of exactly what was happening, he didn't want soldiers swarming the place under. There were several patients here who could have bad reactions to that sort of activity. Of course, the place would be evacuated, but that was never easy on people with certain kinds of illnesses. Plus, there was every chance that the aliens would leave if instructed to do so.

Joshua rolled his eyes. He couldn't stop the hopeful little voice inside him, he'd never been able to do in his entire life, but he did have to wonder why it didn't at least comprehend statistics. Statistically speaking, the odds of harmful aliens leaving with a warning and never returning were exactly dick. Still, the voice remained adamant. Everyone, _everyone_ had to be given a chance to do the right thing, even if they'd already proven themselves capable of doing the wrong thing.

He found Greg's office and looked carefully around him. No one was anywhere near the place. Fantastic. He glanced around for the ever present CCTV cameras and, to his surprise, realized that the nearest two had been vandalized; specifically, their lenses had been painted black. Interesting. That meant there was the possibility of footage he should probably see.

He turned the door knob and found it unlocked, which was a good thing as he didn't like his chances of finding something to pick a lock with in his pockets. His hand twitched and he thought, idly, that there ought to be something, always kept in easy access. He shoved the thought aside and slipped into the office.

Astonishment rolled over him immediately when he got his first glimpse of the room. There was no sign of any kind of a struggle because the place was completely bare. Greg's bookshelves, normally laden with texts of philosophy, divinity studies, and psychology were empty. The papers scattered all over the man's desk were conspicuous only in their absence. Even the desk-top lamp was gone. Joshua slipped around the desk, tugged open drawers, only to find them barren, and shove them closed again. He was bent over the last one when he heard scrabbling sounds from the door.

He ducked under the desk just as the lights went out. This sort of stupid thing always happened to him. Bugger. He wasn't ready for them, not yet, not by a damn sight.

Two voices, whispering. One female, one male. Unidentifiable. He ducked lower, trying to look under the desk for a peek at shoes. There was every chance he could recognize the footwear, at least. He bit back the urge to curse in frustration when he realized that there wasn't a big enough gap to peek through, silently reciting entire dictionaries of profanity in his head.

Their voices became loud enough for him to hear, even if he couldn't place the voices as belonging to anyone specifically. "You're certain nothing has been left behind?" the man's voice questioned.

"Nothing. Poor Greg, he..."

"He did not suffer. Sentimentality will not assist us."

"But I didn't know something like this would happen."

"We hoped it would not, of course. But protection of the project is our primary objective."

Their voices dropped again, and then the male voice spoke slightly louder, revealing exactly what Joshua had suspected. "What have you ascertained about the threat?"

"Stewart is a military officer. Tight-lipped, close-minded, easily angered and driven to rash behavior. He's probably completely useless."

"Not his identity, you fool, his origins! I've seen his behavior. He's much less useless than you are. His medical records are suspiciously sealed."

"I've been unable to obtain anything I'd need to run a profile."

"We have only so much time. Find out."

Joshua waited a full five minutes after the door closed behind the two before he wriggled out from under the desk, making another mental note as he did so. There were traces, faint but certain, of the iron tang of human blood. Even beyond the alien's words, he had no doubt that Greg was dead.

He slipped into the hall and headed for the common room, the lists starting to coalesce in his head, flow charting what he knew and what needed to be done and how quickly he could accomplish it.

Point. The aliens were dangerous and, apparently, efficient. Well, but a maintenance crew could empty a man's office without anyone noticing anything the slightest bit out of the ordinary. This must have been how they convinced everyone that Greg had simply quit. Rather than leave signs of a struggle, they had left only evidence that he had packed up his office and gone.

Point. There was at least one human collaborator on the staff, the unknown woman. She had never raised her voice enough for him to identify her by her speech and had been wearing shoes that prevented him from identifying her by her gait. Whomever she was, though, she had been ordered to find out who and, moreover, what Joshua was. Interesting.

Point. That led to the conclusion that the aliens suspected they weren't the only non-humans present. They perceived Joshua as a threat to them because they thought he might not be human. This meant, he decided, that they had little or no use or respect for humans. Therefore, aside from being a traitor to the planet of her birth, very likely deluded, and possibly a threat to Joshua himself, the unknown woman was in danger from the creatures she was assisting.

Point. He was almost completely certain that the male alien was Dr. Jones.

"What'd that wall ever do to you?" Son asked.

Joshua blinked. He'd wandered into the common room, found a chair, and continued his thinking. Hadn't even paid any attention to the environment around him at all. "Sorry, what?" he said.

Son took the chair next to him, looking at the same bit of wall Joshua had, apparently, been glaring at. "What's got you so cross? You've been looking grim as death since breakfast."

Joshua shrugged and his mouth twisted into a sarcastic half-smile. "An' you can tell because I'm usually such a happy-go-lucky soul, that it?"

Son chuckled. "Sure you are," he complained.

Joshua glanced around them and, finally, turned to Son with a very serious expression. Having done this before, he found that the aliens often only had access to one or two languages on their translation devices, usually the ones they expected. He spoke, therefore, in Chinese, hoping that the language barrier would hold true, just in case. "What if I told you there was something odd going on around here, something probably dangerous?"

"If it was anyone but you I would suggest you needed to have Bill look at your medication," Son decided after a moment.

"But not me?" Joshua asked, surprised.

Son shrugged. "Well, you are insane, but as far as I have seen, not paranoid."

Joshua nodded and lapsed back to English. "Lunch?" he suggested.

"Why not?" Son said laconically.

* * *

"Well," Doris exclaimed as she led Rose into the parlor. She handed the younger woman a glass of lemonade before settling herself on the sofa nearly a foot from her husband. Rose was surprised to hear a frustrated note to Doris' voice when she continued. "This will be Harry and Alistair's last dinner in England for a couple of weeks. _They_ have been invited to speak at a conference."

"That's great!" Rose enthused. "What're you speaking about?"

Harry and the Brigadier exchanged expressions of consternation. John stifled a chuckle at their predicament, though he likely wouldn't find it as amusing were he on the receiving end. Doris looked exasperated at the whole affair. She was an advocate of letting Rose know about what, exactly, they all used to do for a living, even though she knew it must wait until Joshua was ready. For a moment, the varied reactions to her question confused Rose, left her uncertain. This group had always welcomed her with a warmth that surprised her, but this simple question had caused them to instantly shut her out. Then, it occurred to her that they likely didn't know that Joshua had told her about UNIT.

A secret smile crossed her face. She knew Joshua would wish he could have seen what was about to happen. She addressed Harry. "I suppose you're going to be talking about alien physiology or some such," she said brightly. The reaction of the room was better than she could have wished for. The Brigadier and Harry stared at her, absolutely gobsmacked. Doris beamed, and John crowed his laughter to the heavens and all that might reside there.

Dignity quickly restored the Brigadier to his wits, and he stopped impersonating an emu that had been recently assaulted with a purple brick. Harry continued to stare for several seconds after the Brigadier began, smoothly, to speak. "Actually, Dr. Sullivan will be presenting a cautionary lecture-"

"Go figure," Benton murmured.

The Brigadier shot him a look but didn't pause. "...On the dangers that can be present in items of alien origin, even if declared innocuous by the owners." Harry bobbed his head in affirmation. Lethbridge-Stewart really thought he was getting too old to still be dealing with whatever the Doctor dragged in, even if it was a bright, charming young woman. Especially if it was a bright, charming young woman.

"So, what will you be doing there?" Rose asked.

"Whatever they need me to do," the Brigadier responded uncomfortably.

"Which won't be much," John chimed in, gleeful at the older man's discomfort. "He's the guest of honor."

Rose saw Doris cross her arms in irritation. "Yes," she added sourly. "He will be pandered to by this next generation; those he's never met will be basking in his presence at the Ritz-Carlton, but they can't let his wife join him. I have all the security clearance needed, but do they care?"

Rose shook her head in sympathy, fully understanding, now, the point of contention. "Always wanted to go, haven't you?" she asked kindly.

"Who hasn't?" Doris demanded.

"We've been over this." Alistair made the mistake of trying to placate his wife with facts. "They simply can't risk the exposure. Every person attending was scrutinized and debated over. It is as small an affair as possible." Rose winced, knowing this would do nothing to soothe any woman.

"No," Doris said slowly, as if speaking to someone particularly thick. "They just don't want to shell out for another plane ticket."

Rose knew an old argument when she heard one and knew very well that it was not likely to be resolved tonight. Silently, she wondered how much of this was an unproductive outlet for the stress of Joshua being in rehab. After all, they almost seemed to want to preserve the dispute. Particularly Doris. In fact, Doris seemed to want the argument to be plain and public, like a show. Rose shook her head and, with a smile, turned to John. "So, you're not going?" she asked.

He looked uncomfortable as he realized that being asked simple, friendly questions by this girl could lead to dangerous territory and it wasn't nearly as much fun when on the receiving end. "No I have…another project," he said carefully. The Doctor had asked them to take care of Rose, and John didn't expect that he would appreciate them leaving her alone for a few weeks. He also didn't expect Rose would appreciate being told he was her body guard. "Plus," he added as a happy thought struck him, "I get enough of ill-mannered urbanites in London, why cross the Atlantic for more?"

"God's honest truth, that," Rose said laughingly.

A timer dinged in the kitchen. Doris stood. "Rose, be a dear and give me a hand, won't you?" she asked with a smile. Rose grinned back and followed her out of the room. The mischievous laughter that soon sounded caused all three men to tense instinctively.

* * *

"So, you're going to New York, then?" Rose said knowingly nearly as soon as the door swung shut. Doris smirked in triumph.

"Of course I am," she said matter-of-factly. "Don't know what possessed them that made them think that a woman who could handle being Mrs. Lethbridge-Stewart would be held back by something as trivial as not having _permission_. I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow."

"And he doesn't know." Rose was fighting back giggles.

"I expect Alistair will work it out. I rather imagine my turning up at the hotel will be a bit of a give away."

The two women exchanged a puckish expression before dissolving helplessly into laughter.

* * *

At dinner, the Brigadier was suspicious of his wife's suddenly understanding attitude. The boys were having fun regaling Rose with stories of their past exploits, none of them involving the Doctor, as it would be inadvisable for her to accidently mention something he didn't remember. But then, this night wasn't about the Doctor; it was just nice for them to have an open, credulous audience. Everyone at the table had seen and done things that they could never tell to anyone but each other. Now there was a golden light in their eyes as the recalled past adventures for an unenlisted but believing young woman.

The Brigadier, however, couldn't put aside the misgivings aroused by his wife's unprompted acceptance of his departure. Finally he addressed her. "Despite everything, you're going to come, aren't you?" he asked without preamble.

Doris didn't so much as blink at the non-sequitur. "Of course I am," she informed him with a smile. "A vacation in New York City, it'll be like a second honeymoon."

"A honeymoon in the Big Apple, eh?" Benton drawled in amusement. "Sound's like she won't take no for an answer, Sir. She's certainly got you against a wall."

Rose couldn't fathom why this comment made the Brigadier glower hard enough to score rocks. Nor did it make sense to her for Dr. Sullivan to turn that lovely shade of burgundy, but she let it pass with nothing more than a perplexed look.

Doris and Alistair got into an amiable discussion of what they wanted to see while in New York after dinner. Harry went searching the library for a particular book for a few last minute touch-ups to his lecture. John found Rose sitting on the balcony, staring up at the stars.

"You know," she said when he sat down beside her. "People, well humans I suppose, are always on about the stars. How they're always the same and such. But even out there, there's as much that is changing as down here. More, even, because there are more worlds. And it's not all about us. Scientists get all excited whenever there's a supernova, but how many lives just got snuffed out by it?"

John wisely said nothing, not certain where this was going.

"But even so, they're a comfort to us," she continued softly. "There are books and songs and poems about them. They inspire epic tales of gods and heroes. But, the most important thing about them is that they can be seen anywhere. Most stars can be seen the world over. Orion can be seen in Australia, Guatemala, Egypt, and Russia. As far away as they are, they unify us. Two people separated by vast quantities of space or even time can look at the same star and be connected."

Rose sighed, and John realized what all this was about. He gave her an awkward one-armed hug and a comforting smile. "He'll be home soon," he told her warmly. "And I very much doubt that anything will separate you two again."

"No," she said thoughtfully, decisively. "I don't imagine anything will."

* * *

So, perfect timing there on top of everything. He'd forgotten about the New York conference, of course, but one thing he did have to say about it was that he was finally, however reluctantly, happy to be in rehab.

Stupid aliens. They just had to turn up and make a nuisance of themselves just when he was pretty sure he'd have to handle them on his own.

"You know, Joshua," said Sherry, sitting her tray next to his, "it's just a figure of speech."

"What is?" he wondered, not taking his eyes off the maintenance worker he'd been watching surreptitiously since breakfast started.

"'If looks could kill'," she explained. "No one's ever exploded just from somebody glowering at them, not even someone who glowers as well as you do. What's the problem?"

"They're pruning my tree," he complained. It was true. No idea whose bright idea it was but, for some reason, a team of maintenance people were outside with heavy goggles and jackets (despite the heat) and work gloves, and they were taking power tools to his tree right this minute.

Sherry looked horrified. "Why?" she demanded, and shoved her tray away, jumping up from her seat. "Let's go," she insisted.

Joshua shrugged and got up to follow her.

They were stopped at the back door by a team of orderlies. "No one can go out there right now," one said, laconically.

Joshua studied him briefly, decided he'd make a nice projectile if necessary, and let the anger show in his eyes. "Why not? They said they were just pruning some trees. No harm in taking a walk, is there?"

There was an enormous, thunderous cracking sound, and then the massive old oak landed across the lawn just beyond the porch. Joshua stared. Sherry screamed outright. "Murderers!" she shrieked.

"What the hell just happened here?" Joshua demanded.

"They killed it!" Sherry wailed. "They just... they killed it!"

Zed turned up, looking appalled. "Joshua, isn't that your tree?" he asked.

"Was, yeah," Joshua agreed, stunned. He rounded on the nearest orderly. "What the hell have you stupid apes done? That tree was older than this building, what exactly was the point?"

The orderly shrugged, looking more amused than concerned at the sobbing Sherry and at Joshua's annoyance. Sherry had flung herself into Zed's arms and the boy was holding the weeping woman, looking alarmed and baffled at the same time. "The maintenance supervisor said it was endangering the building with some of the low hanging limbs."

"Right," said Joshua, grimly. "Can I talk to this maintenance supervisor?"

The orderly shrugged. "I'll ask around. Do you want me to call one of the doctors to look after her?" He gestured at Sherry, shaking his head, a faint, but decidedly smug smile on his face.

"Shut up," Joshua ordered. "She's a practicing pagan. Don't you stupid apes know anything? Get out of the way."

He took Sherry's arm and Zed took the other one, and they led her outside. Sherry looked at the fallen oak and wailed. "Stay with her," Joshua ordered Zed, and stalked across the lawn toward the maintenance crew.

The aliens looked at him in apparent surprise and Joshua rolled his eyes. "Something funny?" he asked coldly.

"No," said the nearest one in a strange accent that Joshua couldn't quite place. He realized to his surprise that this was the first time any of them had spoken to him at all. "Just trying to protect the structure. The roots were endangering the foundation and the branches were endangering the building."

"Hope you're proud of yourself." Joshua turned the glare up a notch or two. "You lot really ought to clear off before this gets ugly. And I'd tell my supervisor that if I were you." He couldn't see their faces clearly enough through the goggles to know for certain if they realized what exactly he meant, but he hoped to hell they did, because he still wasn't sure what they were. Without that knowledge, he wasn't sure how easy or difficult it would be to carry off his threat.

He walked over near the base of the tree and carefully uprooted two small saplings. Then, he walked back along the trunk, located a good long limb, and wrenched it free. He pulled the silvery leaves from it, something inside hurting a lot as he did so, and brought the limb back to Sherry.

"What's this?" she wondered.

"A gift from our late friend," he said, sadly. "I'm sorry. If I'd realized, I'd've tried to stop them."

"You couldn't know," she replied, just as sadly. "I just... I wish Greg was still here."

Joshua was surprised at this, but supposed it made sense on some level he didn't comprehend. People of faith sticking together or something.

"Maybe he left a number where he can be reached or something?" Zed ventured. "We could ask at the desk."

Sherry looked a little more cheerful at that, but Joshua shook his head. "Where's Son?" he asked, looking anywhere but at the crushed expression on Sherry's face.

"What are you gonna do with those?" Zed asked, pointing at the two little saplings Joshua held in a hand.

"Dunno," he said. "I just thought... I dunno."

"We need to get them planted," Sherry said. "Maybe there's something in the craft room."

"Right," Joshua agreed. "Zed, see if you can find Son, get him to meet me in our room in a half hour. Sherry, can you give me a hand?"

As they searched, Joshua tried to comfort the woman with the only thing he had handy - facts. "It's not really dead, you know. That's the thing with trees, the nature of ancient things built for longevity. Long's the root survives, the plant can still grow. It'll never return to its old glory, o' course, but it can still fulfill its purpose. An' that's to produce seeds, to make new trees, like these ones, that can reach the sky."

"That is true, though, isn't it?" she mused thoughtfully.

They managed to find small peat pots and soil for the little trees and the action seemed to cheer Sherry immeasurably. Joshua was moderately pleased with their success, even if he did have to fend off Miss Carstairs toward the end of their visit. He had no idea why the empty-headed woman was so fascinated with him of all people, but Sherry's assertion that she'd be willing to slap the woman on Rose's behalf went a ways to cheering him up.

"Or my own, I'm not fussy, really," Sherry added, following him to his room. "And now, why don't you tell me what's going on? I can help."

He blinked at her in surprise. "There's nothing going on," he claimed, defensively. He just needed to talk Son into helping him organize a distraction tonight was all, so he could slip into the security room and look over the tapes.

"Inside, Robin Hood," said Sherry, gesturing sternly at his door. "Let's talk." Joshua sighed, but shoved open the door. "I heard you telling Rose. See, looks like the Merry Men are all here," she added with a quick glance over the room.

"Are we playing Robin Hood, then?" asked Zed, cheerfully, from where he was reclined on Joshua's bed.

"Wouldn't that make you Alan Adale?" replied Son, dryly.

"Shut up, Friar Tuck," Zed snapped back.

"I wanna be a bear," said Jamal, vaguely.

Joshua blinked in confusion.

"He's already got a Little John," said Sherry. "Great big John, actually, three foot wide across the shoulders." She beamed cheekily at Joshua. "I got his number."

"What?" Joshua asked. "Seriously?"

She shrugged. "Well, my sister got his number, but I stole it." She grinned at the others. "I call Will Scarlet."

"Anyway," Joshua interrupted. "Before we get carried away, there's nothin' goin' on an' I dunno what you lot are on about."

Zed waved a graffitied leg in the air. "Pull the other one," he said.

Son shook his head. "We know there's something wrong with the maintenance people. We've been watching them, because you were, and they're weird as all get out."

"They eat forks," Jamal added, entirely too helpfully.

"They don't eat forks," Sherry said with rolled eyes.

Joshua sighed and leaned against the wall next to the window. "Actually, he's right, they do."

"No!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Why would anyone eat plastic forks?"

"No idea," Joshua lied. Couldn't very well say "because they're alien space lizards who are probably killers," could he?

"The point is," said Son, "there's something funny about them. And we need to know more. What's your plan?"

"How d'ya know I've even got a plan?" Joshua asked.

"You don't have a plan, Major Stewart?" Son asked with mocking incredulity. "I'm shocked. The state of our military these days, I dunno..."

Joshua actually chuckled at this. "Don't be," he said. "Best at plannin' off the cuff, me. But you're right, I don't want anyone ta get hurt. An' that includes you lot."

"We're not asking to get hurt, idiot," Sherry complained. "We're offering to help. They cut that tree down for a reason and the only reason I can think of is to annoy you." She considered him speculatively, the oddest look on her face. "Do they think you're a tree nymph or something?"

"Ugliest damn nymph I've ever heard of," Son commented unashamedly.

Zed sat up and he and Jamal both laughed at this, and Joshua couldn't help grinning himself. He did make a mental note to consider if the aliens did think removing the tree would injure him some how. Strange idea, but not completely impossible, he supposed.

"You lot wanna help? I need a distraction. I want to get into the security office, and I think tonight would be the best time for it. Jus' after dinner, when there's liable to be lots going on anyway. Somethin' to keep the orderlies busy enough that no one's monitoring the system."

"That's when there's only one bloke on duty, isn't it?" Sherry asked, and Joshua wondered how she knew that, exactly, but hesitated to ask. "That's clever. It's their supper break, you see."

"Why do you need to see security tapes, though?" Son wondered.

"Just need to check something's all," Joshua replied, waving a dismissive hand.

"It's something to do with Greg, isn't it." Zed said this, but it wasn't really said as a question. "I just realized. You don't think he quit."

They all stared at Joshua in something like horror, even Jamal managing a concerned look as Joshua's brain scurried to come up with an answer other than, "I'm sorry."

Sherry groaned. "I need a drink," she complained.

"No you don't," Joshua snapped coldly. "You need to stay clear-headed an' focused on the distraction or you'll be a liability." He regretted having to say it that way, but he didn't want to mention that she might be in danger. It was true, though. There was no telling how deadly these things might be, not until he knew what exactly they were, but it was absolutely certain that anyone could get hurt in any difficult situation if they didn't keep their mind on the task.

Zed sniffed. "Let me do it," he said.

"Zed..." Joshua and Son both cautioned immediately.

"No, seriously," Zed said. "Look, I owe Joshua my life..."

"You weren't dyin', lad," Joshua retorted.

"Doesn't matter," Zed said. "Honestly, it's best if it's me. They've already got me on suicide watch, thanks to Bubbles, so if I do anything off, they'll pay attention. Plus, well, you may not know who I am, but outside of Springwood, people do pay attention to me. I've been in tabloids before and everything."

"I remember," said Son, with rolled eyes. "My granddaughters cried for a week when the Mirror showed a picture of you with your girlfriend."

Zed glared viciously. "Well, you can put their minds at ease, because the bitch seen kissing me in that photo is my step-mother, the unnatural cow."

Son blinked and his normally bland face looked completely horrified. "Um... you really don't like adult women, do you?"

"Just ones that were stupid enough to marry my father," he replied. "Fucking wanker," he muttered.

Joshua cleared his throat. "Right, so you're sayin' you want the publicity?"

"No, I'm saying Springwood won't want the publicity. If I lose it, they'll send in everyone to shut me down as quick as possible."

"Yeah, maybe, but we need the distraction to last more'n a few minutes."

"Hey, I can hold an audience!" Zed's face was the very picture of indignation. "Tell you what, when we get out of this hell-hole, bring Rose to a concert. You'll see. We're doing a cover of an old Ian Drury song for the next album."

Joshua shook his head, chuckling at the young man's sudden enthusiasm. "Don't want you anywhere near her with your rhythm stick, thanks," he said.

Zed gave a bright, honest grin. "Let me do this, I know it'll work."

Grimly, finally, Joshua nodded once. Then, they put their heads together and began to plan.


	39. Chapter 38

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Well, we tried to keep it from them, but they've seen the footage now. Jack has retired to the attic with a half-gallon of hyper-vodka, after the Doctor refused to answer his question about getting younger. The Doctor is wandering around and complaining. We can't get much sense out of him, what with the extreme vocabulary, but we have definitely heard "not everyone can have really great hair", "wish Jackie Tyler was around to fix that", and "fifteen years and a chain saw might sort it out." They've both managed to ruin this week's copies of the contract, of course. What Jack got on his, you don't want to know. We handed the Doctor his copy and he scrawled, "What's the point?!?!" across it in great big double bold letters. Things are a bit depressing around here right now, to say the least.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 38:**

It was quiet as Joshua and Son made their way toward the security office. Joshua had tried to talk his roommate into staying behind to help with the distraction, but Son insisted Joshua would need a lookout and, if necessary, a competent second distraction. Joshua, though wholly reluctant, had to concede that Son had a point.

Zed, with Jamal and Sherry for backup, was waiting in the common room to start the distraction. Joshua had his mobile in hand, ready to send a two letter text as soon as he and Son were in place in the doorway of the men's loo across the hall from the security office.

Or, in other words, now.

* * *

Zed checked his mobile and stuffed it deep into his jacket pocket. "Right, let's start this."

Jamal shrugged and handed Zed the "hat" he'd been wearing all afternoon - a clever disguise for a microphone. It was something Joshua had conjured up using a dismantled walkman and some bits and bobs he had taken from his pockets, using a tool kit Sherry kept around for fixing the glasses she wouldn't usually wear. Or so she said. Joshua had looked a bit askance at that, so Zed didn't know for sure how true it was.

Joshua might give off weird vibes, but Zed was coming to trust the man's judgment.

Sherry leaned over to whisper to several women sitting around her and gave him an encouraging nod. Zed gestured her to remind her of what she was supposed to be doing and she nodded, getting up to come sit next to Jamal

Zed struggled, for the first time in a long time, to fight down the urge to laugh. He was going to get into so much trouble for this. Good thing, too, because he was really starting to get bored. Hadn't destroyed anything in at least three months and it was getting old.

He stood on his chair, snapping the little microphone thing into place on the borrowed ball cap he was wearing, flicking the on switch as he did it. "Wake up, Springwood, it's time to remember how to party!!"

Everyone was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind and, since that was the impression that he wanted to give, anyway, he was hardly worried. With his very best crowd-stealing glance, the one the keyboard player always bitched about, Zed shed his overcoat.

"Check it out, folks. I'm Zed Elysian, and I'm completely naked."

* * *

"They've obviously started," said Son, dryly.

Joshua, chuckling to hide his discomfiture at the rather impressive volume of screaming coming from the general direction of the common room, nodded. The people screaming didn't sound particularly unhappy. He shook his head to put the concern for what Zed could possibly be up to out of his mind at the sound of the security office door banging open and then closed.

He sauntered casually across the hall, picked the lock with one of Son's hairpins, and let himself inside. A quick scramble found the rack of digital tapes and he selected the one marked for the date and location he needed.

There was, mercifully, a small machine set to the side with a telly attached, obviously meant for playback if needed, so he sat down and stuffed the tape into the player. Again, he was lucky. The very first section on the tape was exactly what he needed. Time was on his side, even if everything else in the Universe was out to get him. He fast forwarded through the day, watched various people come and go through Greg's office door until the time stamp revealed it to be after lights out and, in fact, nearly midnight.

Three maintenance workers walked the hall, each pushing an enormous cart of the sort used by laundry to deal with the linens. Odd. One of them knocked on the door. Another one pulled something that looked decidedly like alien tech to Joshua's trained eyes out of the bin he was pushing. The lights went out and the camera went fuzzy.

Joshua swore quietly. He didn't understand why, if they had tech to interrupt communication, they went to all that trouble to vandalize the cameras. Then, the cameras came back up, to show the maintenance worker toying with the box. Another one was escorting Greg out of his office. The screen went fuzzy again and when the picture came back, it was blacked over.

Joshua cursed creatively and grabbed the tape from the second camera. It showed only the exact same scene, only from a different angle. It was almost certain, though.

He dug through the tapes until he found one for the staff parking area. He froze, though, because there was a loud whistling from the hall way. That was his warning. The orderlies had cornered Zed, whatever the boy had done.

Joshua rushed to put everything back where he had found it, slammed the off switch on the telly he'd been using, and slipped out of the room, thumbing the lock behind him. Son was leaning casually on the wall across from him, so Joshua shrugged and they started up a conversation in rapid Chinese, wandering casually back toward the common area.

They were just in time to see Zed being led past them by a couple of tense and angry looking orderlies. He was singing, and the microphone appeared to still be working, as it was the loudest noise in the din that rang through the whole open area. "_Immanuel Kant was a real piss ant, who was very rarely stable. Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could drink you under the table..._" Joshua shrugged. Suited the situation, really, and the kid had a good voice.

He was also completely starkers.

"Doctor Stewart, sir, I salute you," Zed announced, apparently already drugged to his eye teeth. Still, he managed to remember the most important bit as he wrenched loose and tossed his hat. Joshua caught it and thumbed off the microphone.

"You missed all the fun," Sherry shouted cheerfully.

"Looks like," Son agreed blandly.

"Where's Jamal?" Joshua wondered.

Three minutes later, five orderlies came in through the back door, escorting the large boxer between them. Joshua shook his head. "Catchy, was it?" he wondered.

Jamal was naked, too.

"Looks like," Sherry agreed, plucking a brassiere off the back of a nearby chair and chucking it after the departing orderlies.

Son just sat down hard and laughed harder.

* * *

Joshua managed to avoid his "Merry Men" until after breakfast the next morning. He might have held out longer, but they sent Jamal after him. Jamal was having one of his OCD days and cornering Joshua was his obsession of the day.

"What did you find out?" Sherry demanded.

"They definitely had Greg," he admitted grimly. Perched tailor fashion on the end of his bed, he considered them carefully and felt himself conceding defeat. They were worried and angry and helpful and he was cut off from outside support, except Rose, and he didn't want her to know how dangerous the situation had gotten.

"The only thing I don't understand is why they took him. Greg's got no particular authority here, an' the way they hid his disappearance means they didn't take him for hostage purposes or anythin' like that."

"Well, maybe he found out something?" Son offered.

"The problem there," Joshua said, "is how well the thing was planned out. Usually, when someone kills to hide somethin', it's pretty much a crime of passion. If they do have the time to plan, then the victim usually knows it's comin' an' finds a way to leave information behind."

"What could he have found out about them?" Sherry wondered.

"Why they eat forks?" Jamal offered.

"Funny thing about that," Joshua replied nervously. He didn't want his friends to look too deeply at that problem. "But I'm sure Greg woulda raised an alarm or somethin' if he figured that out." Because almost everyone made a scene if they realized there were aliens involved.

"So, no ideas at all why they took Greg out of all the people in this place," Sherry said with rolled eyes.

Son nodded. "If they were just randomly killing people, there's got to be three dozen people here who would be better victims. It's a Rehab. There're lots of people here no one would be surprised if they appeared to have killed themselves, and I know of at least a couple who it wouldn't be far-fetched to pin a murder on."

Zed was back in his subdued, morbid state of mind this morning and shrugged in that affected corpse-like fashion he took on when he was like this. "Maybe they ate him," he suggested in sepulchral tones.

Son snorted. "Don't be stupid, who'd eat a vicar?"

Joshua frowned thoughtfully. "Come ta think about it, he'd be the safest to eat on the premises. He's unlikely to be tainted by any quantity of foreign substances,substances and unlikely to be promiscuous..." He winced as he realized that the statement he'd just made, while scientific in nature, and probably completely accurate, was extremely rude.

"Not to mention all that kneeling probably makes him nice and tender," Son observed dryly.

"Shut up," Sherry protested on a shriek, "all of you. You're just sick, completely sick."

"But what if he's right?" Jamal asked her. "They eat forks, why not people?"

"People and forks are nothing alike!" she spat.

Joshua sighed. "No, and a Coke and milk are nothing alike, either, but people drink both. One's completely synthetic,synthetic; the other's pretty nearly natural. But what do people and forks have in common?"

"Nothing!" Sherry spat at him.

"Apparently, the maintenance people can eat them," Jamal replied vacantly.

"It's weird," Zed said.

Joshua frowned. "Plastic - to be specific, polymethylpentene."

"Maybe it's not like that," Son said. "Maybe it's like some people drink or smoke and some don't."

"Yeah, let's stick to the forks," Sherry agreed.

"What do you put in your tea?" Joshua suddenly wondered, thinking on things that could be drunk.

"N-nothing," she replied, but he caught the stutter.

"Sherry, I'm not gonna explode if you tell me. It might be important. Is it some kinda alcohol?"

Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. "Wh-why do you ask?"

"Because I saw one of 'em eat your teaspoon the other morning, an' I've not seen that one since," he answered. "Kinda seems a bit odd, that. It couldn't have been the tea - they'd know better if that was the problem."

"But plastic and alcohol are related," she answered.

He nodded. "So are tomatoes and nightshade."

Son added, "People eat puffer fish, too, although they probably shouldn't."

"We're gonna be late for groups," Zed said. "Can we take this up later?"

"Maybe," Joshua said. "Just... maybe."

* * *

The session with Bill went about as badly as it could possibly go. Joshua had learned what he needed to know in the first five minutes - that if he wanted to get to a proper computer to look things up, he was going to have to do more sneaking around - and after that, he just wanted the discussion to be over.

Bill's incessant attention to the post-traumatic stress disorder was the last thing Joshua wanted to endure today, if for no other reason than that he was reasonably certain he was going to be giving himself another trauma before he got out of here. He couldn't be bothered with his own issues at the moment. His worry, his focus, had to be on the hospital, the people who should be safe from random alien invasions and attacks, the people he was meant to be keeping safe.

His answers to Bill's questions were therefore clipped or even pithy. He tried to change the subject, but Bill was back to being the little terrier he resembled, and had the topic in his teeth. He wouldn't let it go. Joshua only hoped they could get this over with before he snapped.

Or not.

"You put people in danger?" Bill asked, for clarification.

"Not on purpose," Joshua grated. "It just happens, and it's almost always my fault. Everything I touch is at risk."

"You've a very harsh opinion of yourself, there, Joshua. Have you considered..."

"Maybe it is harsh," Joshua cut him off, "or maybe it's true."

"The guilt of a survivor..."

"Or a willful assassin!" Joshua jumped up from his chair and paced a few steps, then rounded on Bill and watched as the ruddy color drained from the little psychiatrist's face. "You don't know what I've done, and I don't even know what I've done, but I know that a lot of people tend to die when I fuck up. I know I've enough blood on my hands to wade in it." He turned and seized the door, flung it open. "It's very easy to assume I survived some war, Bill. But what you don't know is that it's entirely likely I ended it, and that my survival was my just punishment."

* * *

"Joshua," Rose's voice had a soft, insistent quality to it. He sighed.

"Nothing's wrong," he lied immediately.

"Oh. So you sound like hell because you feel like throwing a party?" she asked sarcastically.

"Damn. You're gettin' too good at that."

"You love it."

He couldn't help it. He started to smile. "I do, yeah. What would I do without you?"

"Well, don't worry about it, because you're never gonna get to find out."

The grin broadened. "Thank you. I was slipping."

"You wanna talk about it?" she offered gently.

"They chopped my tree down," he began, annoyed.

"What, seriously? Oh, that's just wrong."

He agreed with her, related the story of exactly how it happened, and she commiserated sweetly. "An', really, I dunno why, tell the truth," he concluded.

Rose chuckled. "Yeah. I mean, what could they possibly need with that much firewood this time of year, anyway?"

Given the abrupt and blinding nature of that flash of insight, Joshua suddenly knew exactly why cartoon ideas were always drawn with exploding light bulbs.

* * *

''Well, are you gonna tell us?" Zed asked.

Joshua decided they were very lucky he'd talked to Rose before they descended on him. "If I tell you, I have to kill you," he claimed.

"And the Academy Award for best action hero goes to someone other than you!" Son answered indignantly. "You need our help, if for no other reason than someone's got to watch your back."

And wasn't that just a fantastic idea? Like playing in traffic. He grinned brilliantly and, cheerfully as if he thought they had the right idea, Joshua announced, "Truth is, they're alien invaders." The grin broadened as Zed, Son, and Sherry shared one dubious look three ways. Jamal, of course, just looked interested. Joshua waited expectantly. Any minute they would decide he was a lunatic and finally let well enough alone.

"Right," Zed said. "What planet are they from, then? Venus?"

Joshua shrugged. "Nah, Venusians haven't lived on Venus in fifteen thousand years. Give or take. They're not from this solar system, I know that." Earnestly, since he expected them to bolt and run any second, he continued, "Near as I can tell, they're from a hotter planet with a dimmer spectrum of light. Some kind of reptilian-humanoid species, don't think I've run into 'em before. S'a wonder they've even managed to survive here the six months or so they've been here."

The three looked at each other and, slowly, started to nod. "Well, if all else fails," Son began, "that certainly explains the forks."

Joshua blinked at them. "What? You lot actually believe me? Not convinced I've gone round the twist? A few books shy of a library? What're you..."

"What're you like?" Zed interrupted. "You're fucking insane, Joshua, but if there's another explanation for this lot, I can't think of it. You do this often? Run into aliens?"

"You believe this?" Sherry asked, quite startled.

"Shit," Zed demanded, "you don't?"

"Right," said Son. "So while the committee over there debate, what are we going to do?"

"Do you know where they came from, Joshua?" Jamal asked. "What they want?"

Joshua sighed. "I need to get into the computer system., I need to try to put together a few random details. I don't suppose you lot are up for another distraction?"

"Don't do it tonight," Son insisted. "You can't, they'll get suspicious."

"But..."

"Wait 'til tomorrow night, and you can sneak into Bill's office," Zed added, breaking away from his rapid-fire conversation with a very bewildered Sherry. "It's his day off."

"You gonna run off an' set the orderlies on me?" Joshua asked Sherry.

"No," she decided. "No, you're... gods, I should be sectioned for even thinking this, but you're probably right. They don't act like normal human beings. Besides, you'll probably need my help."

"Oh?"

"I used to be a chemist in real life," she said. "Back before I met Tanner. Ended up losing my job, so I became a brew-master, but that didn't last, either, obviously. Still, I can mix up a handful of cleaning supplies and blow something up if I need to do."

Joshua forced himself not to grin. "We'll try to keep that as a last resort," he said. "Used ta have a friend like that, loved explosives."

"You're absolutely bouncing," said Son, his voice enough to dry out a martini as usual. "Sounds like it isn't just your friend."

"So tomorrow night, distraction again."

"Yeah, and I've been thinking," Son added. "Everyone knows we all hang out together, the five of us. Think it's time we had a little tiff."

"What?" Joshua demanded. "That's... ridiculous, and domestic, and..."

"Absolutely perfect," Zed interrupted. "Completely brilliant."

"I like to fight," Jamal said.

Joshua leaned quietly against the wall and listened to them plan out a distraction more absurd than anything he'd ever imagined.


	40. Chapter 39

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has been wandering around all week, demanding the "Scissors of Rassilon". We haven't figured out what's up with that, but he swears that if we don't have them on hand, he is not going to be held responsible for what happens between him and a straight razor the instant he finds a mirror. Jack, of course, offered him this 51st century gizmo, but the Doctor turned it sonic, somehow, and now it will carve entire "Burma Shave" jingles into the sides of anything furred or similar. Including the front lawn. OV and Jessa have gone to get some grass seed to cover up the SOS, arguing heatedly about whether or not Bermuda grass should be banned under the Geneva Convention.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 39:**

"I miss him," Sherry said, a wistful smile on her face.

"But your aim is getting better?" Zed suggested.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sherry snapped.

"That you should just run the wanker over with a truck and have done with it," Zed replied, hotly.

"What would you know about it? You and your fly-by-night romances?"

"Leave the kid alone," Son cautioned.

"Oh, now he's a kid," Sherry complained. "It's ok for him to be insulting and I have to listen to it, but I tell him off, and he's 'just a kid'?"

"Well, everyone wanted to tell you," Zed snapped. "I'm just the one who got tired of it first."

"D'you people mind, I'm tryin' to read a book, here," Joshua interrupted.

"Well, if some people wouldn't go putting their tattooed noses in where they're not wanted," Sherry snapped.

"Sherry, haven't you ever heard of the fine art of ignoring people?" Joshua asked.

"I suppose you think he'll go away?"

"I doubt it, but we wouldn't have to listen to you bitch," Jamal jumped in before Joshua could answer.

"Me? I'm not the bitch, and besides he started it."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Zed snapped. "It's all day, every day. My asshole boyfriend did this asshole thing and now I fucking love him. Jesus H. Christ, Sherry, get some self-respect."

"Both of you shut the fuck up," Joshua demanded. "People are trying to think in here an' they can't with you two screechin' at each other like a murder of crows."

"Talking of crows, that where you got your nose?" Sherry snapped.

"Now, that's personal," Son protested.

"Oh, shut up, Confucious."

"Leave off," Joshua complained.

"What exactly is your problem?" Jamal asked, at the same time as Zed, only Zed said, "damage" instead of "problem."

"I didn't start this!" she snapped. "I was just saying I missed my boyfriend."

"Now he's your boyfriend?" Son wondered. "Yesterday you wouldn't have him for a gift. I think you called him a boy-shagging bastard."

"That's my business, innit?" she demanded.

"Then why the fuck are you always telling us about it?" Zed demanded.

She cursed every last one of them quite soundly, in language that startled even Joshua and Zed. "What's with her?" a passing patient asked his friend, but they both shrugged and kept walking.

"You lot can do what you like," Joshua decided, took his book, and stormed off.

"Is it that time of the month, Sherry?" Jamal asked.

Shrieking further incoherent epithets at the others, she picked up her chair and hurled it at Jamal. He caught it and set it back down, which only seemed to piss her off even worse.

The argument degenerated rapidly from there.

* * *

Bill's office, being on the lower southwest corner, turned out to have been the best possible choice for a little breaking and entering. There was a large shrubbery planted between the window he needed and the rest of the building, and this window was practically waist level from the outside of the building. Since the bushes extended over Joshua's head, blocking not only the window from the world but also the world from the window, he wondered why there was a window there at all, but wasn't complaining as it made his mission that much easier.

He had everything he needed for sneaking in: one clever bit of bent wire coat hanger. The windows were old and they weren't secure in the offices. He slipped the wire in, worked it carefully until it flicked the window latch, and then pushed it open.

The lithe grace of his movements made cat burglary a hobby he could easily pick up, Joshua decided. He eased himself through the open window and dropped to the floor, then darted to the computer. He needed to make this fast and again his hand twitched with the annoying sensation that he should have a tool handy to make this a lot easier.

Parking himself in Bill's chair, he promptly opened the staff database and looked up Dr. Jones. It being a database, he wrote a quick code to have it fetch all staff members who had been hired in the same time frame. He looked up personal records and accessed the internet, confirming in moments which addresses were real and which were made up.

Fingers working at an exhausting pace, he opened window after window of data, eyes moving furiously, memorizing. Then, when he had everything he could get legitimately from Bill's machine, he cracked his knuckles and, playing the keyboard like his piano, started hacking.

* * *

Sherry was sobbing when Joshua wandered back into the common room. At first, he worried that things had gotten out of hand, but she grinned at him through her tears and pounced on poor Zed. "I love you guys!!" she wailed.

Zed wasn't the only one who looked terrified at this announcement.

* * *

Wednesday morning was given to the distraction of groups, but the afternoon, while the others had various sessions, Joshua spent hiding from Bill in his room by claiming to have an allergy to lunch. It wasn't far from the truth: if there was the slightest chance the aliens had found out about his aspirin allergy, he couldn't risk the food here any more, even if none of the aliens were among the techs in dietary. That stuck him with fruit and whatever could be found in the vending machines. He was pretty sure that this would increase the nutritional value of his diet.

With the nearest thing to certainty he could have under the circumstances, he had narrowed the aliens outside of the maintenance staff down to Dr. Jones, a nurse on this floor, and a nurse in the adolescent wing. That last bothered him more than any of the rest of this, because if this lot really did eat people, he didn't want children vulnerable to their machinations.

He had timed their arrival at Springwood to four months ago, just in time for the maintenance staff to win the bid and take up work in the basement. That meant that they were either waiting for something to happen or expecting reinforcements. He didn't like that last at all. Well, he decided, stamping down a brief terror, if they were waiting for reinforcements, he'd just have to get rid of them before that happened.

Hotter environment, different light spectrum. Narrows it down. Lizards. Narrows it down. Blue blood, advanced disguise technology. Narrows it down. Vulnerable to ethanol, but likely to eat plastic. Narrows it down. Waiting for something...

Damn, he just didn't know. But the ethanol vulnerability gave him ideas.

* * *

"Right," said Joshua, "I've got a plan."

"Do you know what we're up against, yet?" Sherry demanded.

"Lizards, at the moment, is the best I can give you," he apologized to the group. "Look, I've been thinking. The one who ate Sherry's teaspoon is definitely gone. Alcohol vulnerability, makes a rehab the perfect place to hide. They seem to be waiting on something, an' I'm pretty sure we don't want to know what. The only thing we can do is get rid of them before that happens. I think we need to be prepared so I can confront them this weekend."

"How're we gonna do that?" Son demanded. "Thought you were sober. Got a secret stash we don't know about?"

"I don't," Joshua denied, "but the chemist here does."

"What gave me away?" Sherry asked.

"Besides the fact that you've always got a flask to share with the desperate, and spending money with no job?" Joshua asked. "You knew the security guards and orderlies movements and most of the staff schedules. That anxiety disorder of yours would have demanded it. You'd have to know for dead certain you wouldn't be caught before you'd've tried anything."

"Clever," Zed admired.

"Genius, me," Joshua said with a grin. "Now, how much have you got?"

"I built a still in my closet after I chased off my roommate. That crafts room has surprisingly useful stuff," Sherry admitted. "Why?"

"Because we're gonna need every drop you can round up. That means no more sales and you'd best stay sober yourself. Don't want this lot getting the best of you in a weak moment. Haven't got a lot of friends to spare, me. Jamal, you're pretty good at catching flying furniture, how're the rest of your reflexes?"

"Still in fighting trim," Jamal promised. "Why?"

"Because ninety-nine percent of the lizard species I've ever seen are well fast an' I might need you to cover me if you can keep from getting distracted. Can you do that, do you think?"

"I can focus on the fight when it's happening, Joshua," Jamal promised him.

"What about me?" Zed demanded.

"I need you and Son to figure out a way to steal something."

* * *

The Thursday morning sun rose with the typical reluctance of just about anyone having to go into the office on such a wet and murky day. Joshua continued to feign illness. He could go back to being in rehab once they were rid of the lizards, he'd already decided. For now, the important part was to do some serious reconnaissance. He crossed his fingers, hoping the schedule he'd memorized for the maintenance workers held true today of all days, as it was imperative.

It would be hard to say which hit him first: the suffocating heat or the dim, glaring, red light. Steam softened the details of the room, but it was still obvious that this room had once been a typical basement and that the various technologically advanced work stations and the weapons rack had been poorly super-imposed. Joshua made note of a place where the security camera footage had been diverted, but they hadn't set up any recording system. He wondered if this meant they weren't very adept at invasions or if they weren't planning of maintaining this base for long and didn't want to waste resources. He shrugged as he moved on; maybe they just lived in the moment.

The boilers explained how they managed to keep this room in sauna-like conditions. Several of them were working full tilt, but were no longer connected to the pipes that led into the main plumbing of the building. Instead, steam billowed from their open toms, threatening to scald any human who came near. Transparent red plastic covered all of the lights, thick enough to block most of the light, and that which escaped was angry at having been hindered.

"Their planet orbits a red star, K class maybe, or M. A dying star. Could be they're looking for a new home." Joshua said to himself. "Venus would suit them better, if its atmosphere wasn't so toxic. If they were to release enough greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, Earth could be made hot enough. But there are so many better, uninhabited planets they could find refuge on. Why this one?"

His careful circuit of the room brought him to the weapons rack. To be honest, its very presence worried him, no matter how sparsely it might be filled. These weapons, every single one of them, could easily bring about the death of over a hundred humans in a single hour. It wouldn't take a large force of trained warriors to overtake this planet. It would, however, take more than the six that were fastened to this wall.

And then Joshua saw it. Behind the boilers, where it would be difficult for any human to get to, due to the extreme heat, was a stack of crates. Their protected position screamed at Joshua's instincts that this was important. Experience told him that he wouldn't like what he found. Stripping off his jacket, he slunk over to them, grabbed the top box and retreated back to the relative cool of a corner and put back on his jacket. Joshua almost laughed in bitterness when he opened a woken crate labeled "cleaning supplies" to find nearly 20 of the same weapons he'd examined on the wall rack.

He was leaving when a piece of paper in a fanciful, girly handwriting caught his attention. It was a report on him. Near the bottom were penned the words "threat level: high." Below that, he saw "recommended he be eliminated."

Joshua scowled at the damning paper. He'd finally started to get his life in order. Throughout the drunken haze he'd considered life for the past year or so, there had been plenty of times that he wouldn't have minded too much to meet true oblivion. But now, every minute was important. At the moment, every second lessened the amount of time he had to spend away from Rose. Once he got out of here, every second would be a treasure.

Now these reptiles wanted to steal away his future with Rose. His glower hardened as he left the heat and emerged into the hospital which seemed bright in comparison, despite the missing lights.

Careful to not be seen leaving the basement, Joshua made his way to a quiet corner. He wouldn't let these creatures follow through with their intentions. Rose would not be taken from him, had he any say in the matter. He knew, though, that every thing had its time and everything died. Joshua found he had a responsibility, lest he discover this to be his time. He couldn't remember the last time he felt a responsibility other than to save the world. It was a burden that weighed on his mind even as it leant him strength and lifted his spirits. He didn't mind having a duty to Rose.

Joshua leaned against the wall and thumbed open his phone. It wasn't much past two and he knew Rose would still be at work, her mobile in the back room, but he couldn't be sure, with the entire maintenance staff apparently gunning for him, that it could wait. This wasn't something he would leave to chance.

The ringing stopped and his Rose's lovely voice rang out the familiar answer phone message. After the tone, Joshua said the only thing he could think to say.

"In case anything should happen, precious girl, I just want you to know that I love you. And I'm so glad I met you."

* * *

When he walked back into his room, he was rather astounded to find Miss Carstairs sitting on his bed. "What're you doing here?" he demanded. "Get out."

"You're supposed to be in bed, ill, I thought," she said sweetly. "But you're not, because you're not ill."

Joshua braced himself to make a run for it. Stupid cow, he didn't have time for her cheap come-ons right now. "Don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"You've got to help me," she pleaded. "The aliens are trying to get me."

Joshua stared at her, stepping closer, confused. "What aliens?" he asked warily. Maybe she knew something, or maybe she'd had a psychotic break. Wouldn't be the first time someone had lost it from working in a mental hospital. "What are you on about?"

"The aliens, you know which aliens, I know you do," she said in a hoarse whisper.

Joshua frowned and, hesitantly, reached out to grasp her shoulders. "What have you seen? What do you know?"

She shuffled nervously, then staggered. He tried to catch her, then felt a sharp pain as her hand collided with the side of his neck. "What the..." Blackness started to lick at the edge of his vision. "What did you... do?" His legs stopped trying to support his weight and he dropped to his knees.

"It's a sedative," she said, calmly. "Should keep you out long enough for me to find out what you are. My friends don't trust you."

"You... co...corr...collaborator."

"That'd be me, yes," she answered cheerfully. "It's about time I got some respect, don't you think?"

"They'll..." He sighed, gasped, fought for air. "They'll kill you first."

"Don't be silly," she burbled. "They're good, they'll help us. And I found them first."

Joshua couldn't make sense of a word she was saying, though that may be because she was making no sense. His eyes wouldn't stay open, his brain had slowed down to a sluggish trickle. The last thing he was absolutely certain he was aware of was Bubbles Carstairs crushing his mobile phone under her foot, while she chirped at him, "You're the alien threat and I'm eliminating you."

* * *

Joshua Stewart had been in Springwood Psychiatric Hospital for nearly a month, and it showed. Every night, Jenny served a new broken soldier at Joshua's old table. This one, Miles, didn't tip as well but drank more. Jenny knew, young as this lad was, he wouldn't last too long as his skin was already jaundiced. She hid a sigh every time she put a drink before him.

Joshua's flat was not only clean, but the fridge held some staples, none of which had been allowed to sour. On his bedside table, a stack of books on alcoholism and substance abuse had shifted and morphed as books were added and finished until only one remained, a scrap of paper marking Rose's place in the penultimate chapter. Rose found herself not wanting to finish the book as she'd discovered that she enjoyed learning, even enjoyed studying, and didn't know what to turn her mind to now she'd whetted its appetite. Maybe astronomy: she could learn about stars and Joshua could tell her of their inhabitants.

The bed that these books lay next to no longer smelled solely of the man whose flat this was. Rose's scent now clung to the sheets as much as his did.

Most tellingly, though, was the optimism that was seeping back into Rose. It had begun when they'd finally admitted their love, and every day it strengthened. Rose knew on a primal level that Joshua would be back soon. "Before you know it," was a proverb that applied, she supposed, but she had the suspicion that it might even be before she expected. Either way, it couldn't be too soon.

On Thursday afternoon, Rose walked out of Henricks and into the sun, still laughing at the look of envy on Wilson's face when he learned she got to leave early. She glanced at her phone to check the exact time and was surprised to see the voice mail icon.

What she heard chilled her blood even as it warmed her heart.


	41. Chapter 40

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Having calmed down significantly, the Doctor is now, apparently, planning to throw himself a going away party. Jack's all for this idea and has suggested he be in charge of the entertainment. While Jessa and the Doctor have vetoed this on the grounds that the entertainment should, probably, remain clothed, OV has been quick to remind all that Jack's got a lovely singing voice (and that's not all). The Doctor has conceded to Jack in charge of the music, provided the lyrics stay clean. Jack wants to know what "clean" is. Right now, we're planning to slip the contracts in with the signature slips for any deliveries that might need to be made. We'll let you know.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 40:**

Fingers flying over the keypad, Rose desperately punched in Joshua's number. It didn't even ring once. True to his nature, Joshua had never bothered to record even a pithy voicemail message. Instead, a mechanical voice began to recite his number to say it was unavailable. Before the second digit could be intoned, Rose thumbed the end call button in distress.

She paced in front of the store a few times before calling him back with a few determined key strokes. This time she made it through to the beep, though she fidgeted the whole time. Her brain fizzed with a million words that struggled to break through. Some how, it boiled down to two ideas. "Oh, Joshua," she breathed. "Me too. Come home safe."

For a moment after ending the call, Rose stood in indecision. She couldn't go home, not like this, it would only set her mother off. Worried as she was for his well being, Rose likewise couldn't stomach the idea of going by his place. Her eyes scanned the small swatch of the city that lay before her.

She needed someone to talk to, she knew, though she wanted nothing more than to run until she dropped. Adrenaline was surging through her, and if she didn't get rid of it, she felt she might explode.

At the thought of running, John's face swam into her mind. The idea of someone with whom she could disclose everything nearly made Rose weak with relief. It was just after three, he would be at his gym. Rose jogged to the bus stop.

* * *

"You gonna wake up any time soon?"

Joshua blinked. "I... wha?"

"Oh, c'mon, ya can't just lie there like a stupid ape, there's work ta do."

Joshua sat up. "Where am I?" he asked, staring up at the impossible image smirking down at him.

"Quite possibly where we belong, at least in your head," the other man said dryly. "You're in a straight jacket in a padded room, but I'm thinkin' that's a matter of opinion, mostly."

"S'where we're s'posed ta be, yeah," Joshua agreed.

"Ya sure?"

"What are you doing here, then, if I haven't lost it?" After all, there wasn't a lot of logic to having this literal of a conversation with yourself. Not that he hadn't done it before, but it had been... different... "My head," he complained.

The other snorted. "Our head is entirely too useful at the moment to be all fuddled up with daft human drugs."

"Who are you?" Joshua demanded.

His own grin appeared, looking exactly like the broken wreck of a smiling disguise that used to beam back at him in the mirror before he took to the alcohol. "I'm you. Well, to be strictly technical, you're me. Normally, most of me's blocked off s'all." The grin broadened, started to look almost genuine. "Stupid apes an' their primitive potions have sorta let me out for the mo'."

"I have no business seeing you, then."

"Technically, that's true. But need I remind you that you're s'posed to be fixin' this?"

"Fixin' what?"

"The aliens. The lizards, remember?" The other stared at him, the intensity in his own blue eyes suddenly making Joshua quite aware of why most people flinched away from that deathly, star-flecked gaze. "You need to wake up, Joshua. You need to wake up an' get us out of here an' fix the lizards, save the hospital, save the world."

"Thought the world was safer if I was in a padded room?"

"Tha's for you to decide, I s'pose," the other agreed, pacing freely the length of the room with Joshua's own powerful gait. "Can't said I'd argue, me. Strange notion you've got goin' in there, after all."

"Dunno what you're talkin' about," Joshua denied coldly.

"Don't you?" the other asked, and turned an angry, blazing gaze on him, the weight of titanic fury pressing in on him. "Pretty little thing, isn't she, and almost like a study in opposites. Fierce and gentle, soft and strong, fearless and terrified, angry and compassionate." The eyes took on a slightly mocking quality, and the smile even moreso. "Innocent and tempting?"

"Shut up," Joshua snapped.

"So you do know what I'm talking about," the other said with satisfaction. Leaning over, the other man's face so close, Joshua could clearly see the storm in his own eyes as they peered into him. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

"What?"

The other stood, leaned back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. He, Joshua noticed, had not managed to lose his leather jacket. "Way I see it, you've got two choices here, same's you've always had. Ya can die here, it's easy, an' it'll all be over. No more nightmares, no more wonderin' what the hell we've done, no risk of ever findin' out. Won't make any difference, ya can't take this lot on your own an' ya've been cut off. So, what'd'ya say? Just close your eyes an' let it end."

Joshua frowned. It was tempting, oh so tempting. He'd never have to wake in screaming fear, unable and unwilling to look at the memories that brought horror enough to freeze his bones. He'd never see another friend die. He'd never hurt another living soul.

"Except Rose," the other said.

"Rose," Joshua repeated.

"Yeah, Rose. Tha's your other choice, ya daft old sod. Your body's better'n this, your mind's better'n this. You don't have to die here. There's a sound now, in the silence. It's small, but it's there. So are ya gonna lie there, Doctor... Stewart, an' let them get you, or are ya gonna get up an' get us out of here?"

"What would you do?"

The other chuckled ruefully and shook his head. "Prob'ly lie there. Seem's easier an' it's kinda nice ta know that for once we won't watch someone get old an' die. She's beauty incarnate, that one, an' I don't just mean her pretty form. But she's young an' soon she won't be, before we even turn 'round twice."

"But it's worth it," Joshua protested, and he meant it more than he could ever remember having meant anything. "The pain, the sorrow, she's worth every tear."

The other nodded and looked at him quite earnestly. "So choose," he ordered.

Joshua frowned. "If I get up, I remember?"

"No," the other said. "I'm not ready. But if ya get up, we've got a war on our hands. Again."

"But there's Rose," he said.

"Yeah."

"She... she could be... everything."

The other smiled. "For her, then, for a chance to really live for once, to have a new home, a real one this time. Or peace and quiet. Your choice."

"I love her," Joshua said.

The other nodded again. "So what are we waitin' for? Time's not gonna wait, not even for us."

Joshua looked into his own haunted eyes, and wondered what this man knew that he did not. Everything, apparently, all he had done and all he had destroyed. Joshua knew in himself that the easier course was no more right than wrong, really. The only thing that made the choice, one way or the other, was responsibility. He had promised to be a responsible man, now. A good man, one worthy of her love. He always did what he set out to do.

He had a duty to do this, to get up from this delusion, to fight off the lizards, to save the people in the hospital (so many innocent lives), to save the world. To return home to Rose and tell her he loved her every day of her life, to claim her as his and be hers only in return. "Rose," he whispered.

He opened his eyes and he was alone.

* * *

John Benton was filing the paperwork from a few new members when Rose appeared in his doorway. For a moment, he stared at her in surprise and concern, noticing she was close to tears. She failed to hide a small sniffle, and John was galvanized into action. He stood and beckoned for her to enter.

"Come in, please. Are you okay? What happened? Please, sit."

Rose came in and sat, only to spring back up again in seconds, unable to rest. "I can't get a hold of Joshua," she said in agitation.

John was confused. "Are you sure he's not in therapy or something?" He did his best to not seem condescending.

Rose shook her head in frustration despite his efforts. She wished for a way to transplant her information without having to take the time to talk. "He left a voicemail," she told him, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Putting it on speaker phone, she played the message. The personal nature of its contents brought a small blush to her cheeks when played for someone else, but it, more than anything, could properly explain her fear.

John looked grim while Rose put the phone back in her pocket, but the look was gone before Rose looked up.

"Rose," he began reassuringly. "I have personally seen that man come through against odds that should not be possible. He has survived things that would kill a lesser being. There have been times, I'll be honest, these past months, when I've been afraid he'd kill himself. He didn't seem to want to live anymore. But, however you managed it, you changed that. He wants to live, and he wants to get out of there. And when that man wants something, let me tell you, he makes it happen. Trust in him, Rose. He'll be fine."

Rose sat silently through this, letting John give her a small glimpse of things she'd already known, almost instinctively. When John finished, Rose nodded in calm contemplation. She may not be relaxed, but she was solid in her resolve. Managing a small smile, Rose stood. Enough manners had been pounded into John's subconscious as a child that he stood when Rose did.

"Thanks, John," she said warmly. She headed to the door, and John scurried around the desk so he could at least pretend he was properly escorting her. On the threshold of his office, Rose gave him a hug. "You're a good friend."

* * *

Right, first order of business. He wasn't really in a padded room or a straight jacket: that had been in his imagination, his nightmare image of where he thought - used to think? - he belonged. It was a good thing, because he didn't have a tiny lock pick handy.

Instead, he found himself locked up in the absolutely bare room that was used for solitary, the mattress on the floor his only company. They hadn't even taken his jacket or his shoes, probably because this wasn't an official gesture and whoever had locked him up wouldn't really want anyone to know he was here.

He went to the door and studied it, wondering how hard he'd have to hit it to get it open. His calculations were interrupted by voices from the corridor: Miss Carstairs and, worse, Dr. Jones. Not good. Not what he'd ordered at all. "I'm telling you, I can't tell what he is. Don't you want to find out?"

The key in the lock. Joshua flattened himself against the wall next to the door - he'd have to make this quick. Really quick.

The door burst open and Joshua ducked, then dove, a split second decision putting him past the incoming alien and out into the hall. He vaulted to his feet, his body a little more sluggish than it ought to be. He blamed the drugs, shook his head to clear it.

The alien reached for him, not with human hands, but with the three fingered clawed appendages of a reptile. Joshua took off running as the alien shook off the metamorphic disguise. Joshua shouted at Miss Carstairs to run, but she took it as a perfectly good excuse to shoot at him with a small handgun she had produced from somewhere. It was like being in an American film. Thankfully, her aim wasn't any better than her craft projects.

At the end of the hallway, Joshua risked turning his head to see how close the alien was to him, and got a good look at exactly what was following him. Part of him, the part that would have happily died in that pub just to avoid seeing this sort of thing again, cowered in terror. The rest of him, the much more dominant part, now, started logically processing as Miss Carstairs whined and pleaded and the alien backed her into a corner at the other end of the hall.

"You said he was sedated," the alien grated. Then, it reached out and snapped her neck.

The worst thing about it, besides the fact that Joshua had tried to warn her, was that killing her was actually a mercy compared to what the thing did to her next. Joshua winced as her blood sprayed the corridor and reached over to snag the fire alarm. The alien must have heard his movements, because it turned from its grisly feast and flung the body away like a rag doll before Joshua could complete the action.

Dispassionately, the logic centers in his brain informed Joshua that he was dealing with a Kalspar lizard and he had better run. Like hell.

* * *

If John wasn't preoccupied, he might have thought that the encounter with Rose went entirely too easily. As it was, the moment Rose was gone, he immediately picked up the phone, dialing furiously. An eavesdropper would have heard the following stilted monologue.

"This is John Benton; I need to speak to Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. Oh, for the love of- alright 'the cock crows at midnight', 'The fat lady sings', 'Swordfish', 'Wib wib wib', and all that nonsense. I don't have time for this! Put on Lethbridge-Stewart, or you will never make lieutenant. What do you mean he's AWOL? Yes, that is practically the definition of AWOL; I see stripes in your near future. Fine, put on Dr. Sullivan. Then postpone his speech, there is a situation. Kid, you don't have the clearance to demand details from me, but in the interest of expediency, let's say it has to do with the Doctor. Yes, that's right, THE Doctor. Thank you _so_ much."

John waited tensely for several minutes and almost sighed in relief when he heard Harry's sensible, if somewhat miffed voice on the other end. "Harry, where's the Brigadier?" John asked without preamble.

"If I had to guess, I'd say either the Empire State Building, or, if he's lucky, his hotel room," Harry responded. He was irritated enough to overcome some of his proper upbringing.

"Well, Rose was just by. Seems Joshua managed to find something while in rehab. Whatever it is, it's gotta be bad, because he left a message on Rose's phone as a 'just in case'."

"Alright. Why'd you call us?" Harry made a chuffing noise of exasperation and John could just imagine the doctor rolling his eyes. "You know what to do," Harry reminded him.

"I don't want to. How will he react if the cavalry gets called in?"

"And how will he feel if he can't handle it on his own, he regenerates, and we have to bring out the Doctor early? Assuming he can regenerate while... that's all going on."

"I know. I know. I don't need a lecture," John complained.

"Obviously you do, or you wouldn't have called me."

"I tried to call the Brigadier."

"Who would have said the exact same thing with more decibels," Harry countered.

"Alright. I get it," John said petulantly. "Fine, I'll put in the call. And may he forgive us."

* * *

Rose cursed a blue streak as she looked at the timetable in front of her. Joshua had such a lovely vocabulary to choose from, and she exercised every word.

Talking to John had cemented an idea that had been floating around her mind for some time: Joshua had faced a lot in his time. Obviously, he had faced those things alone all too frequently . Just because he was used to it, good at it even, did not mean that it should continue. There should be someone there with him.

The universe, it seemed, disagreed. The timetable, (Brought to you by Children's Portraits by Bad Wolf), calmly informed her that not a single train was going the way she needed until the weekend. Rose stomped her foot, which only served to send pain up her knee, and cursed some more when this failed to make a new departure appear on the list.

Okay, so, maybe logic dictated that Rose would only get in his way if she were to go up there, that she would be a distraction, one more thing he had to protect. But, dammit all, he deserved to know he had someone supporting him, watching his back. Rose decided that her new topic of study was going to be on the subject of thwarting alien threats. She would learn to be a help, not a hindrance.

And when that man got home, Rose vowed, he would never have to face anything alone. With a defeated sigh, she caught the bus to go home. With any luck, her mother would be out tonight.

* * *

Joshua hit the common room at a dead run, eyes searching wildly for anything he could use for a weapon. Son, reclining in a nearby chair, took one look at his face and jumped up, looking completely startled.

"Kalspar Lizards," Joshua said, taking deep breaths to calm the thunder of his hearts in his chest. "It's much worse than I thought. We've got to evacuate this place immediately."

Jamal and Zed turned up, both carrying large back packs they'd apparently grabbed from somewhere. Joshua grinned. "Fantastic, you got them?"

"Yep," Zed replied and smiled surreptitiously, patting the back pack.

"Where's Sherry?" Joshua demanded.

"She had a session, I think," Son said.

"Right, Zed, get on your mobile an' tell her we'll meet her at her room. Time for plan B."

"Joshua, what's wrong?"

Joshua rounded on Bill, just about the very last person he wanted to see right now, standing next to the very last thing he wanted to see right now, which was Dr. Jones. "Bill, you need to come over here," he said calmly.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Joshua," Bill replied in soothing tones. "Dr. Jones seems to be under the impression that you're suffering a psychotic episode."

"Yeah, no problem, completely gone round the twist, me. You come over here and sedate me and we'll all feel better for it."

"Why is it so important to you that I come over there?" Bill asked.

"It's complicated," Joshua hedged, trying to inch closer to them without having the slightest idea what he was going to do to separate Bill from the immediate danger or get them out of this if he succeeded. "In fact, you don't have to come over here. Just... sorta... well, I'd step away from Dr. Jones if I were you."

A pack of orderlies turned up, including one who was holding a subdued and struggling Sherry by her arm, and carrying a small glass bottle in the other. Joshua grinned triumphantly and dove for the bottle, relief in every fiber of his being.

The orderlies surrounded him, and the nurse that Joshua was almost certain was a lizard advanced on him with a needle. "What's in that?" Joshua asked nervously.

"Just a mild sedative," Bill promised distractingly. "We just need you to calm down so we can try to see what's wrong with you, try to help you."

"No thanks," he declined, and dropped into a roll to get past the crowd surrounding him. They were ready for him, though. He managed to get free of several of the orderlies, only to feel the needle slide into his bicep, heedless of the leather or wool in its way.

Time seemed to blur as he spun and plucked the needle from his arm. "Shoulda read ma chart more carefully, you jackass," he snapped, and wrenched the lid from the glass bottle he'd only just managed to keep hold of. He splashed some of the liquid right into the nurse's face.

The creature shrieked, an unnatural sound like a special effect in a dinosaur movie. Joshua heard yells of terror and horror as the metamorphic disguise, and the lizard under it, started to melt. He broke free of the crowd and dashed toward Bill while the former nurse writhed on the floor.

Dr. Jones had, again, shrugged off his disguise field and was towering over a frozen Bill, reaching for him. "Oi, Lizzie," Joshua shouted. "It's me ya want an' I'm over here!!"

The lizard formerly known as Dr. Jones rounded on him, considered him, then turned back to Bill. There was only a second. Joshua hurled the bottle in his hand like a grenade. It hit the support column next to the Kalspar lizard and exploded, shards of glass and splashes of alcohol spraying the creature.

It rocked backward and shrieked, a deeper noise but equally unnatural, then staggered off as its skin started to melt. Joshua snagged Bill by the collar of his lab coat and flung him toward the front doors.

There was a phone on the wall which Joshua snatched up, pressing the buttons to activate the intercom function. "This is Major Joshua Stewart of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce. As of this moment, this facility is under evacuation. Ambulatory patients are to exit the building immediately. Staff, please follow emergency evacuation procedures. This is not a drill." He paused, thought a moment, then winced. "Under no circumstances is anyone to approach the basement. Please exit the building by the nearest safe exit immediately."

He grabbed the fire alarm then, and finally set it off, then turned to look back at the common room. Everyone was standing around staring at him, the expressions on their faces covering every possible degree of shock. Against the astounded silence, his voice sounded louder even than the alarms ringing all over the building. "What're you waiting for, you stupid apes? Run!!"


	42. Chapter 41

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor has ordered OV's brother into quarantine due to the fact that he is - we quote - "spreading his germs, maliciously and with intent." Now that she's recovered, OV is dancing with glee and asking if they can keep him there. The Doctor, who claims to be "immune to fragile human stomach complaints", has said he doesn't think that's necessary. Jack, who is looking extremely green, strongly disagrees. Jessa's got ink pens and quarantine forms. Let's see how THIS works, shall we?**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 41:**

"What were those things?!" Bill demanded frantically.

Joshua ignored him, noting with some surprise that, although Springwood seemed to have cornered the market on doing damn near everything in a half-arsed, lackadaisical manner, their evacuation plan worked with near military precision. Depending on the rank of the person ordering the evacuation, of course.

It took them maybe fifteen minutes to get all the patients clear of the place, and orderlies and doctors were walking around with lists and checking off that everyone was outside where they belonged. "Really," Bill demanded, "what were those things?"

A person who was apparently the Director of the facility stormed up to them. "Who the hell ordered the evacuation?" he demanded.

"I did," Joshua responded.

"With my approval," Bill added.

Joshua shook his head at Bill and hoped the little shrink was up to his usual standards of reading Joshua's body language, because this needed to be covered up as much as possible for the safety of everyone involved. "There's been an accident," Joshua continued. "Can't talk about it, all top secret, you understand. I've ordered the evacuation under peacetime protocols in order to protect lives and, if possible, property."

"What do you mean, property if possible?" the Director demanded. "Hendy, isn't he your patient?"

"He's a military officer," Bill replied. "He's got full authority to do whatever he judges necessary in most situations."

"Are you sure he hasn't gone off the deep end?" the Director shot back.

"I trust him with my life," Bill blurted. "He just saved it, after all."

"Is that what you think?" the Director shot back. "I say he's just a nutter."

"Standing right here," Joshua said. "Tell ya what. Call Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart of UNIT if it suits your fancy and if you can get hold of him. 'Spect he's a bit incommunicado at the moment, though. Ya might try Colonel Mason, though. He can confirm. If ya can reach him. If you can't, try Brigadier Winifred Bambera, she's in Wales, I think."

The Director grabbed his mobile from his pocket and wandered off, looking poleaxed, and muttering, "Name dropper," under his breath.

"What just happened?" Bill demanded for what felt like the umpteenth time to both of them.

Joshua looked around, to find himself surrounded by his friends, and Hendy, all of them watching him intently. "I fucked up," he admitted. "Told you before, people die when I fuck up."

"Who..." Sherry started, but Hendy shot her a look, not certain if his close-lipped patient was ready to talk about the latest thing that brought him guilt..

"No, s'all right," Joshua said with a sigh. "Miss Carstairs was collaborating with the Kalspar lizards. I didn't even consider her, I thought there was no way some one could be that obtuse and getting themselves into the middle of something like this. I should have realized. I tried to warn her, but it was too late."

"She deserved it," Sherry snapped. "She sold Greg out to them."

Joshua shrugged. "No one deserves to die," he replied coldly. "Not like that."

Sherry flinched. "All right," she said. "I see what you mean."

"But she made her own choices, Joshua," Zed insisted. "You can't say that's not true."

Joshua rolled his eyes. "Everybody's a therapist in this place."

Hendy chuckled ruefully. "He's got a point, Joshua, even though you do, too. What do we do now, though? Will your military friends send assistance, or..."

Joshua shook himself. "I've got to go back in there," he said. "They need to know they need to get out of here. Everybody's got a right to a chance."

"But you've already warned them," Sherry said. "The other day, I mean."

"Yeah, but they might've missed the point and, technically, they weren't the ones I need to talk to. They're like bees, the lizards, only all the workers are males. They lost their planet a few thousand years back an' they flit about the galaxy in colonies, whole buncha males of various ranks, one queen, an' she's the one I'll need ta talk to. Because if they're thinkin' of using the Earth for a brood planet, we're in serious trouble."

"Why?" Son asked, looking curious and pale as a sheet.

"Because the Kalspar lizards are like sharks. Or locusts. They've sorta de-evolved to the point that maybe one or two of 'em are actually capable of reasoning things out - Dr. Jones, or the nurses or the queen - but most of 'em are only interested in food. S'why we kept catching them havin' snacks, they weren't thinking too clearly because they pretty much can't. Also why Dr. Jones froze when Zed here was bleeding at him. His logical processors were getting over-ridden by his instincts an' Zed suddenly looked like lunch."

"That sounds hideous," Sherry decided.

"They're terrified of their own offspring," Joshua said. "It's... not good."

"What is a textbook example of a litote?" Zed quipped.

"This isn't Jeopardy." Son told him, lips twitching.

"What are you gonna do?" Jamal wanted to know, ignoring Zed's tangent.

"They've got the tech available to avoid this, and I can modify it for them. It'll take a bit of work, but if they're willing to cooperate, I can help them."

"And if not?" Son asked.

Joshua sighed. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, of course. However, if the lizards were feeling brave enough to already be coming out of their disguises in front of potentially dangerous witnesses, it was very likely that they already had the next phase of whatever plan they had going in place. "That's where you come in," he said. "Paper?" he asked Bill.

Bill reached into an inside pocket of his suit and produced a fine leather notepad with a small pen attached. Joshua snorted at it playfully, but took it easily enough. "Right, Son, if I'm not out of there by dawn, I want you to call this number, give them my name, and this code phrase. They'll handle it from there; they'll know what to do, you just turn around and walk away, got me?"

"No, wait," Son insisted. "I can't do that, I'm going in with you."

Joshua towered over his room mate. "No, you're not," he said firmly. "You're going to help Bill make arrangements to get these people as far from this building as humanly possible and then you're going to wait. If I don't make it, I need you to make that call, and I need you to tell Rose... tell her I'm sorry and that I tried. I already told her I love her. Then you're gonna remember to tell your family that you love them every day for the rest of your life, you got me?"

Son glowered and looked rebellious and angry and like he was planning to argue 'til dawn if he had to, but then he met Joshua's eyes. Slowly he nodded and offered Joshua his hand. "You'd better come out," was all he said before turning away.

Bill started with, "What are you..."

"Don't even think about it," Joshua snapped. "Your responsibility is to your patients. Zed, gimme that pack, you need to help them."

"No chance," Zed said simply.

"Zed, you're a child, you've got your whole life..."

"I haven't been a child since I was ten years old," Zed answered. "And you need me. I've wasted my time being afraid of dying, when all I really was was afraid of living. I'm going, I've got your back, all right?"

Joshua's jaw clenched and unclenched and he thought very hard about laying the kid out just to keep him there. "There's no reason for you to go throwing your life away," he snapped.

Zed shrugged. "I'm going with or without you," he said. "It's not really throwing lives away or you wouldn't be trying it. You've got more to live for than I have."

Joshua winced. "You do as I tell you, you got me? If I say run, your ass had better be half-way out the door."

"'Course," Zed agreed.

Joshua turned to Sherry. "Keys?" he requested.

"In my pocket," she replied.

"I don't have time for this," he snapped.

"Good," she answered, "'cuz neither do I. Let's go."

She started across the lawn and Joshua swore colorfully and started after her. Zed and Jamal followed after him, shrugging. "For Christ sake, Sherry," Joshua ordered, "at least keep under cover!"

She turned a little and flashed him a grin, then took off running, bent almost double, along the side of the building.

* * *

Luck was with her; when Rose walked into the flat, no one was home. The telly beckoned, inviting her to lose her thoughts in its seductive chatter. In seconds, Rose had flipped it back off, its brainless banter unable to drown her worry. She made tea, but couldn't bring herself to drink it. Joshua had made her tea, that first day at his flat. Made it again the day after her mom went on the ultimate binge. The day he decided to go to rehab.

"Which is where he is now, possibly hurt, or, god forbid, dead, and I can't help him. And, dammit, this is getting me nowhere!" Rose muttered bitterly as her thoughts only looped back to what she didn't want to think about, what she didn't want to be happening.

Her phone rang, and Rose jumped. Scrambling for it, putting up a prayer to a god she didn't really believe in, Rose looked hopefully at the screen.

It wasn't Joshua. Her heart fell, but she pushed the accept button anyway.

"Hey Wilson, what's up?" she asked, trying very hard not to sound as dejected as she felt. "I thought you said you broke up with him." Then, her eyes popped open in righteous anger on behalf of her friend. "He did what? Why that rotten little skink! I'll be right over. I'll bring reinforcements," she told him then rang off.

* * *

They crept along the side of the building, Joshua counting windows in his head as they went. God, he'd missed this.

Retired, he tried to remind himself.

Still, the danger, the surge of adrenaline, the power of knowledge and the sheer, unmitigated glory of being alive were all drugs so much more powerful than mere alcohol. He knew nothing stronger than this, nothing more fantastic than saving lives and helping people. The very idea sang in his head like Rose's voice on quiet nights...

Ok, so there was one thing more fantastic.

Joshua sighed. If this fell apart... well, the DVD was in his coat, and he supposed the pictures and his notebook could be replaced. Miss Carstairs had probably taken it when she'd taken him, if she had any sense. Which, admittedly, he doubted. For all that she'd proven to be a danger, she still hadn't been very bright or she would have realized what she'd gotten herself into when they took Greg.

She'd already known Joshua was a threat to the lizards when that had happened, so she would have known to come to him. It wasn't like he'd treated her like an idiot because she was in with the enemy, just because she was an idiot.

They finally reached the window they wanted - the one closest to the stairwell farthest from the basement - and Jamal raised a t-shirt covered fist to punch it out. There wasn't time for much stealth but Joshua still stopped him, reached into his jacket, and pulled out his handy bit of coat hanger. "Let's stay quiet as long as we can," he murmured. "We gotta get ta the third floor, after all."

Jamal nodded, and Joshua picked the window open and they took turns climbing inside.

* * *

"I still do not understand what all the hell is going on," the Director told Bill. "I've got orderlies talking about melting nurses, nurses talking about thefts from the playroom, and one hundred twenty five hysterical patients standing on the lawn."

"Most of these people aren't hysterical," Bill replied dryly. "Mostly, that's you. Did you reach that Colonel Mason?"

"Voicemail," the Director said. "This is insane."

"We need to make arrangements to get the patients to safety," Bill said. "I'd suggest any of those that need monitoring or treatment be transferred to hospital immediately. Staff can go with them, as we haven't got their..."

"For god's sake, Hendy, can't you see that this whole thing is just a joke?"

Son tapped the Director on the shoulder and, when the man rounded on him, laid him out with a single blow to the jaw. "Jamal was right. Sucker punch."

Bill considered for only a second. "Right. As I was saying..."

* * *

They reached Sherry's room without incident and locked themselves inside. "Right, let's have the ammunition," Joshua ordered.

Sherry opened the closet and Joshua stared in bald astonishment. "How in hell did you keep them from finding this?" he demanded.

"Put it out on the ledge when they did searches," she said. "And buried the equipment under a pile of girly crap that no bloke's gonna look at twice if he can avoid it."

"You are really fucking brilliant, you know that?" Zed asked her.

Sherry shrugged. "I used to be. Then I started getting off my head all the time. Wasted every talent the gods ever gave me."

Joshua started hauling out containers and took one of the packs from Jamal. "How many'd you get?" he asked.

"We didn't know how many you'd need," Jamal said. "So we brought six of them."

Joshua opened up the pack and pulled out a large, brightly colored water gun labeled "Super Soaker." He grinned. "Fantastic."

* * *

Joshua set the others to pouring the alcohol into the super soakers while he dismantled the sprinkler from the ceiling. "Should work to put them down even if we dilute it to a 10 percent solution," Joshua said. "Six or eight shots per gun and then fill them the rest of the way with water and give 'em a good shake. Sherry, this shit's strong enough to eat paint, even I couldn't've drunk it straight, what were you thinking?"

"I do dilute it," she said and rolled her eyes. "What're you doing?"

"In case we need wider dispersal at any point. I don't want to have to count on the architecture to throw stuff up against." They all fell silently to their work again.

"Why are you doing this?" Jamal asked Sherry after a while. "I know what Zed's thinking, and I know what I'm doing, but I don't know if I understand you."

Sherry sighed. "I never had a chance to do the right thing before," she said. "I've never been sure what the right thing is. I think..." She shook her head and reached up to snag a hair tie from her night stand. "He just knows," she explained, lamely, gesturing at Joshua, tying her hair back securely.

Joshua listened to the dialogue without input, pretending to be completely engrossed in his little science project so that they could talk. If any of them were having second thoughts, now would be a really, really good time for them to get out.

"Ah," said Jamal. "Now it makes sense."

Zed smiled. "Dunno, why do you think I'm doing this?"

Jamal shook his head. "You've never known an adult male who could take responsibility for anything. Joshua's practically a father figure for you, and you'll follow him into hell if you have to to try and understand him and get him to respect you in return."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Zed wondered. "And why do you spend so much time just staring at people if you know all this?"

"That's how I learn," Jamal said with a shrug.

Joshua knew what he meant. Jamal had been in facilities off and on since he was a little kid, and had learned everything the therapists knew by watching them and watching the people around him. He just hoped Jamal was wrong about Zed, because kids who insisted on trying to impress him sometimes ended up dead. But maybe, if he had a chance, he could head that off. Even if he couldn't say anything to acknowledge the conversation, he was grateful to Jamal for the warning.

"Fine," Zed said. "Why are you doing it, then?"

"Because it needs doing and I can."

"Good point," the other two agreed, and they were silent again.

Joshua's little contraption came together shortly after that. "Fantastic!" he declared, causing the others to jump. "How're we doing over here?"

"Just about done," said Sherry and capped off one of the guns.

"Pack up the extras," he ordered, "an' let's get moving. The diluted solution will only incapacitate them unless they swallow it, but try not ta shoot unless you have to."

"Aren't you carrying one?" Jamal wondered.

"I've got this," Joshua said proudly, holding up a large bottle to which he'd attached the modified sprinkler head. "Let's get a move on."

"Don't forget the trees," Sherry ordered.

* * *

Rose arrived at Wilson's flat about 20 minutes later. Mickey was driving and Shireen was sitting next to him. Rose was glad to be in the back because whenever there was a lapse of conversation, her thoughts almost instantly strayed back to what danger Joshua could have found. At the moment, though, her thoughts were distracted by her duty to inform her friends of their mission.

"So, turns out the bastard wasn't going to school after all. He's been spending all his time and Wilson's money on cards. And I've met this bloke. He does not have a poker face."

"And we get to 'help him' move out?" Shireen laughed wickedly. "I've always wanted to do that."

Wilson opened the door with an almost feral smile. A messy pile of clothes loomed next to the door. He ran an appraising eye over Mickey and the smile became less malevolent but more predatory.

"Give me a hand here, will ya, mate?" he asked jovially. Mickey bent to pick up as much as he could in one go, and Wilson openly admired his bum. Rose smiled, gave Wilson a hug and whispered for him to behave. A jerked thumb directed Rose and Shireen towards the bedroom.

"Himself's is the bureau on the left. Don't worry about being too gentle now."

After the clothes had been hauled to and chucked down the stairs, Mickey helped the girls take the empty drawers from the bureau and send them to join their previous contents. Wilson was going through the bastard's jewelry trying to find and reclaim the gifts he had given him.

It was during this that the door was blocked by a dearly perfect specimen of male beauty. He was a couple inches taller than Mickey, wiry, but he seemed to convey strength. The man, Rose knew him as Alex, swiped an angry hand down his neatly trimmed beard.

"What the hell is going on, you fruit?" Alex demanded.

* * *

Their luck - and their peace and quiet - had run out by the time they reached the end of the hall. A lizard was searching the rooms and they practically ran right into it. "I am so not surprised," Sherry announced as they ran into the stair well and Jamal ripped off the knob behind them.

"Rock and a hard place," Zed declared, looking over the guard rail.

There were a half-dozen lizards boiling into the stair well from the bottom story, and of course the one behind them was scraping at the door. Joshua sighed. "The Greek playwright, Aeschylus, is commonly considered the father of tragedy in theater," he observed, glancing over the guardrail.

"And we're about to be in one of his plays?" Zed suggested.

"He died in 456 BC, and he is the first person ever documented as having been killed by a turtle."

"Which is a reptile, which we are about to be killed by," Zed commented morosely.

"Working on it," Joshua said, fiddling with the modified bottle. "Anyway, he was in Sicily, visiting his friend the local dictator, and took a walk outside. The local eagles had learned that a turtle dropped on the rocks will break open an' then they could eat it."

"What's your point?" Sherry demanded, holding her water gun trained on the door.

"They're up to the second floor, Joshua," Jamal observed.

"One o' these clever eagles mistook the playwright's head for a rock an' dropped a turtle on him."

"Ouch," Zed said.

"Exactly. And the moral of this story, boys and girl?"

"What?" they all demanded frantically.

Joshua leaned out over the guardrail, grinning brilliantly. "If you're bald, wear a hat." He turned the bottle upside down and the alcohol blasted out of it, spraying the walls, the stairwell, the humans, and the aliens.

The lizards all began to shriek and melt, falling over each other in attempts to get out of the way. "Sounds like a really bad riff," Zed observed, "for five broken guitars and an accordion."

"Gods, the stench," Sherry said, holding her nose. "I am never going to be able to drink again without remembering this."

"Yeah," Joshua agreed, feeling quite green himself, possibly a bit more so, since he knew his nose was probably more sensitive. "Fantastic, isn't it?"

The door behind them burst open.

Joshua grinned again. "Run."

* * *

"You're moving." Wilson told Alex firmly. Rose wondered how Wilson could stand to be insulted for his sexuality by his boyfriend and, since she was in a bad enough mood herself, contemplated taking a leaf out of her mum's book. She would, too, if he got difficult.

"The hell I am," Alex spat.

"I pay for this flat, Alex. And it turns out that I've been helping pay for several other people's flat, too. Cards haven't been kind to you? Well, I hear Luck is a bitch."

Alex turned pale, then started running around the flat, securing some of his belongings. One of the things he grabbed was the television in the bedroom. Before he could leave the flat, Mickey stepped in front of him, menacingly. He wrested the telly from the bigger man's grip.

"This his, Wilson?" he called over his shoulder, still staring Alex down.

"Yeah, it's his. I don't even like having one in the bedroom." Wilson corroborated.

Mickey nodded, a triumphant smile on his face. "I'll help you with it mate, it's heavy. Which car is yours?"

"The red one," Alex said warily.

Mickey smiled a friendly, disarming smile. "We'll have this down there in a jiffy," Mickey assured him, walking to the window. Taking quick and careful aim and, placing the telly right in the middle of the window sill, he delivered a measured kick, landing the appliance in the middle of the windshield of the only red car parked up to the building.

Rose poked her head out and glanced down the three stories, marveling laughingly at the massive damage than had been achieved.

"Told you I was good at football. You would've known if you've ever bothered to come to a match," Mickey ribbed her.

Wilson was doubled over with laughter while Alex stared dumbly at Mickey. Then he turned and pelted down the stairs, screaming obscenities over his shoulder.

Moments after the gambler was gone, tears began to leak down the cheeks of the still laughing Wilson. Sensing a breakdown, Rose came forward and put her arms around him. In seconds, all pretense of laughing was gone.

"He never was comfortable with his sexuality. It figures he'd only get into a relationship to use some poor sap."

"No! You don't get to say that about yourself," Rose scolded him gently. "You did everything you're supposed to; he's the one that destroyed this. C'mon, let's get you a cuppa." Rose hauled him towards the kitchen, Mickey and Shireen exchanging sympathetic glances behind them. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

At the bottom of the stairs, there were two doors, one leading into the hospital, which was propped open rather disgustingly by the disintegrating body of a lizard, the other leading out to the lawn. "Now, you lot don't have to go through with this," Joshua said. "You've done your bit, an' you've all done great work. Anybody who wants ta go now can take one of the guns, just in case, and go. No one's gonna hold it against you, ever." He met each of their eyes in turn. "No one's gotta impress anyone here, an' you've all impressed the hell out of me, an' if I didn't have ta do this, I'd be headin' across the lawn right now, so you wanna go, you got my blessing."

"Lizard," Zed said, and turned around and shot the lizard that had been following them.

"Right," Joshua said. "Sorry. Forgot the lizard. So, door? Any takers?"

Sherry shook her head. "Forgot the lizard."

Zed sighed and pulled the pump on his gun. "You need us to watch your back, mate. Seriously."

Joshua frowned, but nodded tersely and stepped carefully over the corpse in the doorway.

"I just thought of something," Zed said.

"What?"

"Where're the water hook ups to the sprinklers? If we could get the booze into them, and trip the system, we would have a good back up plan in case this doesn't work."

Joshua shrugged, but shook his head at the same time. "They're probably in the basement," he said. "Which is where we're going if we can get there."


	43. Chapter 42

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. The Doctor and Jessa have gotten into another one of their ridiculous space-time arguments and as a result, apparently opened a hole in reality. There is currently a very tall, curly-haired bloke standing on the doorstep offering his congratulations and a bag of jelly babies. Jack is thunder-struck. OV is stealing his scarf. The Doctor has let the bloke in but, strangely, advised him, "Don't sign ANYTHING."**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 42:**

"There's so many of them," Zed complained. "I don't remember there being this many maintenance people."

"There weren't," Jamal said. "I counted."

Joshua swore and watched Sherry sling one of the guns across the room, then reach into Zed's pack and grab another. Joshua snatched Zed's and had a go at refilling it on the run as they charged toward the basement, another dozen lizards stunned by diluted alcohol poisoning behind them. "That's bad news," he said. "Really, really bad news. There'd've been another team keepin' tabs on the Queen, an' if they're up here instead... well, it's not good."

"Will you stop it with the understatements?" Sherry grumbled. "We're fighting for our lives, and the lives of a whole lot of other people. A spoon full of sugar does not make the lizards disappear."

"Basement's just down the next corridor," Jamal said, and tilted carefully to peek around the corner. A yellow energy bolt from a high powered weapon shot past his head, and he pulled it back just in time. "Basement's guarded," he added, unnecessarily.

"There are laws against selling weapons like that to primitive species," Joshua complained. "Damn, distraction time, again."

"Want one of us to be the bait?" Sherry offered.

"Hell, no," Joshua said. "If they're shooting now, people really aren't gonna draw them away. Gimme two of the extras."

Sherry reached into Zed's rucksack and pulled out one of the bottles intended to refill the guns. "We're going through this stuff. We're not gonna be able to pull off the sprinkler plan at this rate."

"I know," Joshua agreed, "but we need these and maybe there'll still be enough. Gotta try, anyway."

Sherry nodded and let him get on with it. He tugged the stoppers out of the bottles, just like pins pulled from a grenade, and then ducked around the corner. Sherry had never seen anyone move that fast in her entire life, didn't even know it was possible for a human being to move like that. Joshua jumped into the corridor, sighted, took aim, and hurled the two bottles through the air in the time it would have taken her to blink - if she had dared. Three energy bolts came sizzling right where Joshua was standing, but he wasn't there anymore. He caromed off the far wall and ducked, turning and running again, a barely visible blur, back to their side of the corridor.

There was the sound of glass exploding, punctuated almost immediately by the unnatural screams the aliens made when they were angry - or dying. She really hoped it was the latter, because if it was the former, they would have a lap full of angry lizards in seconds, and they weren't equipped for it.

"I hate this part," Joshua claimed.

"What?"

"Th' part where I haveta kill half of 'em just to try and save some of 'em. Someday, there's gonna be a better way."

"You really don't like death, do you?" Sherry asked.

"We've never got on," Joshua answered vaguely. He peeked his head around the corner, then gestured them to follow. "C'mon, you lot, let's move."

At the basement door, he reached down and seized some large, ugly gun-looking object from one of the bodies. Zed stooped to grab one, too, but Joshua stopped him with a look. "This isn't for shooting things, it's for insurance." He stuffed the gun into Zed's pack and, hesitating only long enough to make sure they were all out of the doorway, shoved it open, ducking back from the anticipated oncoming fire.

"Well, that was anti-climactic," Zed observed when nothing happened.

Joshua stuck his head around the door frame and looked down. The basement was almost exactly the way it had been last time he'd been here: angry red light and appalling heat, mostly. He ventured down the stairs, two at a time, every last one of his senses trained on the room around them. His impromptu team followed, Jamal being sensible enough to secure the door behind them.

There was no one here. The weaponry was all displayed on the racks, now, about four dozen terminally lethal Mark-9 Eradicators. He found himself hoping that whoever had sold these things to the Kalspar lizards was eaten for their pains. The boilers continued to pump out vast quantities of steam. Joshua stepped carefully to the floor and searched the room with his eyes, sniffed the air, listened intently. His uncanny sixth sense still told him that this was where they were supposed to be and, also, that something was very, very wrong.

"Let's find the sprinkler hook-up," Zed suggested. "Since we don't have any lizards at the moment, I mean. Any idea where it would be?"

That was it.

"There's another room, here, there's got ta be. This basement isn't anywhere near big enough."

"Probably through there," Jamal said, pointing at a doorway under the staircase, one that Joshua hadn't noticed last time he was here.

He cursed himself fluently. He'd been too busy noticing the alien tech, the alien weaponry, to even think this wasn't the extent of it. At the time, he hadn't realized what he was dealing with, but now he knew. The queen had to be somewhere, and that was probably where she was.

"Stay here," he ordered his team. "We may need to run." He crept up to the door and listened hard but it did him no good. Finally, knowing he was still completely insane, he shoved the door open and stepped inside. Yep, insane.

Miss Carstairs stood before him, smiling.

* * *

Colonel Alan Mace had seen and heard some extraordinary things during his career with UNIT. But the tale John Benton told him, while invoking a series of absolutely terrifying old protocols, was enough to make him wish he'd opted for the early retirement career track instead of the highest ranking duty officer career track.

The Doctor was back. The bane of Lethbridge-Stewart's tenure, the fundamental agent of all things chaotic, the source and cause of all his father's old war stories, was here, on Earth, and Mace had never been entirely sure he actually believed in the man in the first place.

The Doctor was here, he had found trouble, UNIT backup and assistance would be needed. However, and it was an enormous however, the Doctor was also undercover, under self-hypnosis, and under Lethbridge-Stewart's protection. He was to be addressed as Major Joshua Stewart. Apparently, among the other things the Doctor was currently unaware of, was the automatic promotion of the holder of the Scientific Advisor's position to full Brigadier. The rank hadn't been Major since the eighties. How he was going to manage to keep this under wraps was beyond him.

So Mace didn't have to salute him, didn't have to hold the alien in the extreme awe he had done since he was a boy and first heard stories about him, didn't have to treat him particularly differently than he would any other member of his own team. What he did have to do, however, was go to Scotland and sort out whatever trouble it was the Doctor had unearthed.

He also had to make absolutely no one aware of the true nature of the situation. "Retired UNIT officer," he was supposed to claim. "Treat him with respect, he was once Scientific Advisor."

Right. Should have done like Colonel Crichton and retired while he had the chance.

* * *

Joshua frowned at the woman in front of him. "That's impossible," he decided, firmly.

"The lizard's disguise themselves," Jamal reminded Joshua from behind him.

"Thought I told you to wait outside," Joshua said, without taking his eyes off the woman in the pink business suit.

"Did you mean me, too?" Jamal asked, unabashed. "Sorry."

Joshua shook his head and addressed the lizard disguised as a dead woman. "I'm here to negotiate your withdrawal from this planet," he said. "I think I've got an idea of your situation, an' I can help you, if you'll let me."

"Our situation?" the lizard asked in Bubbles' syrupy voice. "Our situation is that you scared away the food. The hatching is about to commence, so you will have to be the food."

"That's why they took Greg," Joshua observed to Jamal. "She needed food to lay all the eggs, live food, not whatever they've been using to supplement." He looked back at the lizard queen. "Listen, I know what happens with your offspring. I can help you build equipment so you can handle it like you did back on your home world. So you can have an actual civilization again, instead of this nightmare every time you breed."

"These hatchlings will be an improvement," the queen said. She stepped to the right and gestured behind her. Joshua stared in horror at the hundreds of lizard eggs, each the shape of ant eggs, but each the size of a human child. They were all blue, like the lizards' blood, and more than half of them were already twitching. "I've no need for the males upstairs, they can feed the hatchlings as well as you humans can."

"I can't let you do that," Joshua said, firmly. "This planet belongs to the humans of Earth, and they've all got a right to their lives. Let me help you, I can save you and the males and the hatchlings. I might even can find you a planet to settle on so you won't have to wander the galaxy anymore. All you've got to do is give me your word and I can help."

"Earth will be a fine new home for us. The planet can easily be heated to suit our needs."

"What about the light? Ya can't change that, you know, but there are planets out there where the light would be perfect."

"We've adjusted over the centuries. The light will be suitable once the greenhouse gasses are released."

"There's still two problems with your plan. One of 'em, you know right off the top of your head. This lot behind you, they're not gonna go with your plan. They'll devour you before they ever get old enough ta figure out they might should've done something different." He looked around, considering. "Oh. That's why you've got the guns. To try to keep 'em in line. My way'll work better."

"What do you suggest?"

"Bio-stasis," Joshua said. "I can modify some of your equipment, wouldn't be trouble at all, can have the kids frozen and waiting to be educated before morning."

"I like my plan better," she said decisively, holding up one of the guns. "In fact, I'll feed you to them first so they know that mummy looks after them and won't let nasty aliens freeze them."

"You're sure?" Joshua asked.

"Absolutely." She started to shrug off the morphic disguise, an enormous reptilian tail appearing first, then two three-clawed appendages clutching the gun.

"Right, then." He shook his head. "Then we get to your other problem."

A forked blue tongue appeared in a crocodilian face, tasting the air. "What problem?" she wondered.

"Us," Jamal said, and shot her in the face with the water gun.

Joshua shoved the disoriented and shrieking creature back, into the nest of twitching eggs. Several casings split open and the small monsters emerged, attacking immediately, growing rapidly. Joshua shut his eyes. "Run," he ordered, fury and disgust filling every fiber of his being. It was too late, far too late, now. All he could do was save the humans from the onslaught of the Kalspar hatchlings' hunger.

He and Jamal ran through the door and slammed it closed behind them. Joshua reached into Zed's pack and pulled out the gun he had stolen earlier, using it to melt the door latch and then shoving it through the door handle as a secondary bracing.

He looked around the room, desperately, for a solution. One immediately presented itself and he grinned. "Fantastic!" he announced. "Sherry, Jamal, get up the stairs and make sure we've got a clear exit. Zed, with me."

Reaching the weapons' rack, Joshua snatched up three of the guns, then charged over to the boilers. He checked them over, nodding to himself. "Right, Zed, toggle the switches on the sides, all of 'em, an' hand 'em to me. Can you handle that?"

"No problem."

Joshua snatched a hook from a nearby tool rack and used it to open the furnace door on the first boiler. "Gun," he requested.

Zed handed it over and Joshua chucked it inside, then sealed the door behind it. He repeated this procedure with the next two, then grabbed one more gun and used it to seal the steam valves shut. "Right. We've got like two minutes, tops, so everybody run like hell."

At the top of the stairs, Joshua took quick aim and shot open the line to the gas main. Throwing the gun back down, he pounded along the halls with the others, pausing only to snatch Zed and force the kid to keep up. They reached the side door, and Jamal slammed into it with his shoulder low, putting the full force of his weight and speed behind the blow. The door burst open and all four went charging through it.

Sherry bent over, clutching her knees, gasping for breath. "Don't stop," Zed shouted, grabbing her arm. "C'mon, it's gonna be bigger than that."

Practically dragging Sherry between them, they fled across the lawn toward the sound of voices and the obvious presence of a great deal of light.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Rose, Mickey, and Shireen finally left Wilson's. Rose was almost certain he would get some sleep at last, but she wasn't sure what kind of shape he would be in, come time for work in the morning. "Normally," she said, "I wouldn't be so proud of doing something like that to anyone, but I can't really say I feel bad this time."

"Rose," Shireen said, "you heard what Wilson said. He took all that money that Wilson helped him get for school and he used it to gamble and buy junk. Wilson's gonna be paying back those loans, too, because you can bet Alex never will. He's gonna be living with what that bastard did to him for a long time. If anything, we didn't do enough, just busting up a few of his things."

"Things he technically stole from your mate," Mickey added. "Wilson's a good bloke, Rose, he don't deserve to be taken advantage of."

"I know," she snapped. "I didn't say it was wrong this time, and I mean it. And I don't feel sorry for Alex in the slightest and if he goes to jail like Jimmy, it's too good for him, too."

"Then, what's wrong?" Shireen asked. "Because I know you said you didn't feel bad, but that's not how you sounded."

Rose sighed. She hadn't told them. "I'm... I'm just thinking about Joshua is all," she said. "It's been too long since I've seen him."

Shireen giggled while Mickey rolled his eyes. "Four hours. We got four hours together without him coming up once," Mickey complained.

"Hey," Rose protested, "you asked." Then, to her extreme annoyance and horror, she realized there were tears on her face.

Mickey and Shireen were instantly contrite, surrounding her supportively like the lifelong friends they were. "What happened?" Shireen demanded.

"He... something may have gone wrong," she said. "Something to do with his old job. He left me a message, a 'just in case' message. I tried to call him back, but... there's no answer."

Mickey and Shireen looked at each other while Rose continued, her voice sad and far away. "He might be in danger and there's no one to help him. And John said that stuff happens to him all the time."

"Right," Mickey decided. "If he doesn't get back to you by morning, I'll drive you up there myself." He shook his head. "And if the son of a bitch is fine, I'll kick his ass for scaring you."

Shireen snorted. "You're gonna kick Joshua Stewart's ass?" she said incredulously. She shrugged, then hugged Rose tightly with one arm. "I'm in; I'll drive Mick to hospital afterward."

Rose was about to say something, but they never did find out what. In the quiet of the London street where they had parked Mickey's car earlier, Rose's mobile rang.

* * *

Mace flinched when a tall, dark haired man in a leather coat came charging up to him, grinning like a lunatic. "You're late, Sir!" the man exclaimed in an extremely thick Northern accent.

Mace blinked. "Late?" he wondered.

One of the crowd of patients they'd had to shove out of their way when they set up a perimeter here came charging through the crowd and ran up to the grinning idiot. "Joshua," the patient shouted, "what the hell happened?"

"Wow," said Joshua, looking completely surprised. "Did you finally wake up, Son?" He'd never seen the man so alert. If Son hadn't been in rehab longer than Joshua, he'd expect that the opiate haze was lifting, but Son was serious about getting clean.

Joshua shook his head and turned his attention back to the Colonel. Mace noticed in the flood lights that he had extremely blue eyes and, in Mace's opinion anyway, rather out-sized ears. "Sorry, Sir. Just... ya might want ta warn everyone."

"Warn them about what?" Mace, having realized by now who he was talking to, wondered if this was the part where the Doctor left you feeling like you were - as Winifred Bambera had once described it to him - trapped in the Twilight Zone with the natives.

There was a thunderous detonation from the direction of the hospital, followed by two more that were, if anything, even louder. The ground rocked, the building shook and started to collapse in on itself. Then, a fourth explosion sent a titanic fire ball rocketing into the sky, engulfing the entire building in an enormous blaze.

"Never mind," said the manic alien, still grinning as he beheld the destruction. "Fantastic!" He turned to the nearest Private and ordered, "Get someone to cut off the gas mains, would you, an' I don't suppose we've brought any fire fighters?"

"No, sir," the young Private admitted politely.

"Good. Let it burn for awhile. Save us the clean up."

Right. He was in charge, not the crazy man in front of him. "Major Stewart," he snapped, "did you just blow up a hospital?"

"S'not like I've never done it before," the Major replied defensively.

That was very probably true. "Right, well..."

"Have you got a mobile?" the alien asked before Mace could get into the swing of his rant.

"A what?" the Colonel wondered.

"Phone? Invented by Alexander Graham Bell and some other little bloke who was late to the patent office? Vastly improved by cellular and digital technology? Can I borrow your mobile phone, I need to make a call, it's important."

Having no idea what else to do, Mace handed his mobile over, feeling almost helpless, and went to give orders to the people who would actually listen to him.

* * *

Rose glanced at the screen reading "unknown caller" and pressed the accept button with trembling fingers. "Hello?"

"Hello, Rose," Joshua's voice answered softly, gently.

"Oh, god, are you all right?" She knew her voice was shaking, knew she probably sounded close to tears, but she could hear his voice and he was alive.

"I'm fine, love, I'm just fine. Are you?"

"Of course I am, but... what was that call about earlier, then, you scared me to death and... Oh, Joshua, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm perfectly safe, Rose," he assured her, again. "Just... will you still love me if I did something incredibly stupid?"

"Of course I do," Rose insisted fiercely. "Not gonna stop for any reason. Just... promise me you're safe?"

"I am, Rose." He sighed heavily and his voice sounded a bit tremulous in her ears. "I miss you so much, precious girl. I've got some things to clean up, now, but I just needed to hear your voice first. Ya might want to turn on the telly, there's some news crews out here now, so you should be able to see what I've done."

"I love you, Joshua," Rose said.

"I love you, too," he answered, quietly. "Colonel Mace is gonna yell at me in a minute an' I s'pose he'll want his phone back. Someone trashed mine, just so you know. But I promise I'll talk to you soon's I can tomorrow, all right?"

She nodded, then caught herself. "All right, Joshua. Just... come home safe."

His voice caught and she heard him swallow hard before he answered her with, "I'll see you soon. Sleep well, my Rose. I love you."

"Love you, too," she answered sweetly and then the mobile went silent. Rose disconnected hers and turned to Mickey and Shireen. "We might want to turn on the news, he says," she told them. "Apparently something's happened."

* * *

Colonel Mace was apparently very annoyed at being bullied into helping relocate the patients. At the moment, he was in full tirade, and Joshua hadn't been so thoroughly dressed-down since the first time Uncle Alistair had had to bail him out of jail, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about this. "And if you ever blow up another building, I'm reactivating your commission just so I can court-martial you."

Joshua shook his head in grinning defeat. "See, now you've ruined my devious plot ta blow up me girlfriend's job."

Mace blinked at him. "Your... girlfriend?" he asked, as if such a thing wasn't even possible. What in the hell had this man heard about him?

"Sir," a young Private miraculously interrupted them before Mace could launch into another series of complaints and threats. "General Lethbridge-Stewart's on the phone for you, Sir," he told the Colonel.

"Thank you, Jenkins," the Colonel said and turned to go.

"Tell Uncle Alistair I said hello," Joshua requested. Then, he did a double take. "Wait. Jenkins? Ross Jenkins?"

The Private nodded, obviously a little baffled and completely confused to have a strange officer address him and know his first name.

"Pleasure to meet you," Joshua said, and held out his hand. "Joshua Stewart. Your Uncle John talks about you all the time."

Jenkins' eyes widened but he accepted the offered hand with a polite and firm shake. "Pleased to meet you, sir, I've heard a lot about you, too."

Joshua grinned. "You'll have to join us for dinner at Uncle Alistair's one weekend. That way you can meet everyone properly."

"Jenkins," said Colonel Mace, cautiously, "come with me."

"Sir," said Jenkins, and followed the Colonel.

If Joshua wasn't terribly mistaken, he could have sworn he heard Mace tell Ross, "Not one word," as they walked away.

Joshua headed back to check in with Bill and make sure everything was under control.


	44. Chapter 43

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Jessa got angry at the Doctor because he refused to fix her lap top, so she opened up another one of those holes in the continuum and dragged in some startled looking blond bloke in cricket gear. The Doctor said this was fine by him, so OV set Jack on the blond. The Doctor is now sulking and actually refuses to face us. Jack says when he gets juvenile like this, it is best to just give him a banana and let him be. The blond says to hit him, to which the Doctor just snapped, "Masochism," and has retreated to the attic.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 43:**

Joshua found his friends waiting with the little psychiatrist. All of them, even Bill, were sprawled on the ground and looked as if they just needed some popcorn to watch the show properly as the UNIT officers scurried back and forth handling the clean-up. "Well?" Joshua asked, dropping his lanky frame down in the middle of the group.

"Your military friends lie very convincingly," Bill said with wry amusement. "It almost makes me wonder how many other times I've believed complete nonsense simply because someone official told it to me."

Joshua grinned. "An' you know what the worst thing is? Now that you know about aliens, they've got you. Next time they have a staff member break or need a psych evaluation, you've got pretty good odds of being the poor bastard they call in to do it. My friend Liz can go on for hours on that subject."

Bill shrugged. "I won't object," he said. "What else will need to be done?"

Joshua glanced at the others. "Well, if you have backup computer records, you might want to look into your Director's activities, because it seems a bit off to me for a buncha space lizards to manage to take over his maintenance department. Something mighta changed hands somewhere that it shouldn't have done."

Bill frowned as he considered this. "That's a very good point. Legal will probably have to get involved anyway with all this, I know. But I need to sort out my patients and find out where everyone is going to be."

"Ask this lot," said Joshua, with a smile. "I already know what I'm doing."

Sherry shrugged when Bill turned to her, a sort of "ladies first" in his expression. "I'm going into rehab," she said. "I mean it, this time. I could have died today and that tells you an awful lot about living. I'm going to take my meds and do my time and get back to what I'm good at."

"Which is blowing things up," Joshua observed.

"Could be," she suggested playfully, and reached into the ruck sack resting at her feet. Smiling softy, she gently lifted out a small, rumpled looking little plant. "It made it," she said. "Your little tree. You should take it with you."

Joshua smiled and accepted the tiny oak, admiring its miniature shape in the vague light. "Can plant it at Uncle Alistair's, I s'pose, when it gets bigger. Thanks."

"I'm going home," Son said. "I think you're right, I should tell my family I love them, every day, and it's better done up close and personal."

The group discussed this for awhile, and then Zed spoke up. "I can get a whole album off this. Gonna call it 'Burning Down Rehab' and write it like a rock opera. I just wish I had pictures of that explosion - would've made great album art." He grinned while the others laughed at him and Bill objected in the most polite and reticent manner possible.

Jamal honestly had no idea what the big deal was and he told them so in very few words, which amused all of them at least a little. "So, what have you decided, Joshua?"

Joshua shrugged eloquently, looking around him, considering. "I'm going back to London, give living in the real world a go."

Bill looked dubious. "What about..."

Joshua leaned back on the grass and looked up at the sky. There were very few stars visible, given all the spot lights and flood lights and smoke, but there were a couple and he kneow their names. He smiled, utterly content with his decision. "I came here to get sober, and right now all I know is I'll never be able to look at alcohol again without equating it with all this. That's a serious psychological deterrent. I'm sitting here reeking of it and I'm making meself nauseous, just smelling me. I think I'm over that hill. The rest of it... well, I've got time to sort out the rest of it. There's a girl waiting on me in London, and a lot of hope." He shrugged. "Hope's good, I like hope."

"Wait a sec, Bill." Sherry exclaimed before switching over to a voice rather like that of an over-paid announcer. "Your job's just been blown up. What're you gonna do, now?"

"Do you know how much extra work this means I have?" Bill asked emphatically. "I have to find hospitals for most of these people, recreate their records as best I can, coordinate patient care, and try to keep at least half of these people from having some sort of breakdown from the stress." Bill sighed. "They blew up where I work, not my job."

"I wanna blow up Rose's job." Joshua murmured vaguely.

"I didn't hear that." Bill said quickly. "Homicidal ideations can get you committed."

"I don't wanna kill the people who work there." Joshua protested. Then he considered. "Well, not all of the people who work there. Really, I just wanna see the building go up in a beautiful inferno. No more store, no more inventory, no more job for Rose."

"Oh, an inferno." Son cut in sarcastically. "Why didn't you say so? That's so much better."

"Is from my viewpoint." Bill told them. "Wanting to explode buildings means the cops'll have to lock you up, wanting to kill people means I have to lock you up."

"What, seriously?" Zed asked. "Murder is crazy, but extreme pyromania is perfectly normal?"

"Something like that."

They talked a while longer, the friends promising each other to stay in touch, Bill promising to finish what had been started. Then Joshua leveraged himself up from his sprawled position and went to find someone he could annoy into giving him a ride back to London.

"See you later, Robin Hood," Sherry called after him.

Joshua turned one last time and waved a cheery goodbye to his Merry Men.

* * *

Joshua arrived in London just a little too late to call Rose before she went in to work. He said a bleary-eyed thanks to the unfortunate corporal who'd had to drive him back here. He was very grateful for the young woman's assistance, since he had slept most of the way here, curled up on the back seat and, very probably, snoring. He had a perfectly valid excuse - he'd been drugged twice yesterday and between that and the adrenaline finally crashing, Joshua had been lucky to be standing by the time Mace agreed to get someone to drive him.

Letting himself into his flat, he just stood in the doorway for awhile and let wonder wash over him. The evidence of Rose's visits was everywhere. First off, everything was clean. He closed the door behind him and shook his head with amazement.

His books were all stacked neatly on the coffee table or on the floor around it. Everything was free of dust, even though he'd been gone a month. He walked through to the kitchen and looked around, finding easily the makings of tea, including a fresh pint of cream in the fridge, so he put the kettle on and smiled at his laptop sitting happily by itself on the kitchen table. Impulsively, Joshua ran a hand over it while he waited for the water to boil.

He could have the whole weekend with her, maybe, if she would let him share her time. The first thing, the most important, was to find a way to let her know he was home. No, the first thing was to decide what to do and then decide...

He sniffed the air and reached over to turn the kettle off again. The first thing was to get a shower so he didn't smell like he'd just crawled out of the pub again. Everything else could be sorted after that.

Joshua smiled at the list on the bathroom mirror and shook his head in self-deprecating resignation. That needed to come down, really, but it was written in permanent ink, and maybe it should stay there, at least a little while, to remind him.

Not that he would need reminders any more. The list contained all his reasons to quit drinking and all his reasons to really give living life a proper try, and in both cases, most of them were Rose.

* * *

Sitting on his bed, Joshua tried to prioritize. The problem there was that he couldn't think straight, could hardly think at all. The smell of her was heavy in the room and especially in the sheets. There was the ordinary every day fragrance of a soft, drowsy Rose, and that was enough to make him want to bury his face in the pillows and enjoy it. However, there was another note, richer, sharper, screaming in his senses. It made him more than a little crazy with longing for more of it, that inescapable scent of aroused Rose.

The longer he sat there contemplating it, the more it became entwined with the scent of his own arousal, which was exactly the way he wanted it, but he really wanted to put it there, well, the hard way. Chuffing in annoyance at himself for losing time by obsessing, he got up from the bed and started running through his ideas.

What he really wanted to do was go to her immediately and drag her back to this bed. He'd promised to keep her here for a month as he remembered, and he could start that month right away if only she wasn't at work. Still, that was highly unlikely to impress her even a little bit and, really, though he was almost certain he could win her around, he wanted every moment they spent together to be as good as it could be, which meant that he needed to think things out sometimes instead of just jumping on the idea and going with it.

He forced himself to get up, pulled on a clean pair of jeans, and pulled a t-shirt over his head. Except for the one of his jumpers at Uncle Alistair's and the very lucky jumper that stayed with Rose, he was also going to have to go shopping. He had a lot to do today, and only a finite amount of time to do it in. He threw a few things in the wash and settled in to make a list.

* * *

Rose could not help staring. "And that's not a cliche," Stephanie bit off sarcastically and stalked back out of the break room, pure rage and envy in her every movement.

"Don't listen to her," Wilson said quietly. "They're beautiful."

They really were. What they were was a tied bouquet of two dozen red roses in a crystal vase. Well, two dozen, plus one. Above and in the middle of the field of red was a single delicate pink blossom, its perfect petals shading to a soft butter yellow at the tips, a pink and yellow flower, displayed as unique and more beautiful than all the crimson glory surrounding it. Rose honestly thought she was going to cry.

She stepped closer to the gorgeous arrangement and inhaled the soft rose smell. Again, the pink and yellow one stood out, the most highly perfumed and exquisitely scented of the lot.

"What are they for?" Wilson wondered.

"Did you see the news?" she asked. "The place he was staying sort of... blew up, last night."

Wilson stared at her. "And I thought I had a bad night. Is he okay, sweetie?"

Rose laughed. "Yeah, he called me and told me to watch the news." She reached over and lifted the card from the display, her hands trembling. These had come from a shop just up the block, if the envelope was anything to go by. Could it possibly mean...

As it had been on the last bouquet, Joshua's handwriting was meticulous in an attempt to tone down its general awfulness. What Rose read probably stopped her heart, and might have stopped time itself.

"I've done a lot of stupid things lately, but the stupidest by far was not taking your hand and running with you the minute I laid eyes on you. I'd like to spend my life making up for that, if you'll let me. If you will, I'd like to start tonight at seven. I'll pick you up at your door."

"He's home," she whispered, brushing tears off her face. "He's come home and..." She read the card again and felt like singing. "Tonight, he says. I'll get to see him tonight." She looked at her friend and shook her head. "This day is gonna take forever!"

* * *

Joshua found that time passed much more quickly if you found yourself with ten thousand things to do. There'd been the trip to the florist's in Regent's street, and he'd had to go get a new phone which, once programmed, immediately rang, (courtesy of UNIT's tech squad keeping close tabs on his transactions, as usual) so that Uncle Alistair could bawl him out and then frantically demand to know if he was all right, with Aunt Doris chiding Uncle Alistair about his priorities in the back ground.

Joshua stopped in a shop up from the florist's and found a couple new jumpers. He could go into Henrick's and see Rose, but if he did, he knew he might give in to the urge to carry her back to the flat like a barbarian raider. He wanted everything to be perfect for her, and that meant behaving like a gentleman. Even if everything didn't turn out exactly perfect, he had to at least make every conceivable attempt.

After that, he caught a bus going back to his end of London to go grocery shopping. It had been a tough choice, that. He wanted to celebrate, and an elegant restaurant was the sort of place one usually went for that sort of thing. On the other hand, he didn't want to share Rose with anyone tonight, and getting reservations at this late a date wouldn't be very easy, either.

Still, one of the things Rose didn't know about him was that he was one hell of a good cook. An opportunity to really show off for her was too good to miss. This also had the added bonus of allowing him to set the menu with all the things she liked best. The only downside there was that he had no idea - beyond chips - what her favorite things were.

He also needed to get a hair cut and he briefly considered going to talk to Jackie for those two reasons. Sanity reasserted itself quickly, so he rang John to find out who cut his hair, and clambered up to his flat to drop off his new jumpers. Sitting down in front of his laptop, he looked up Shireen's number on the internet and rang her.

It turned out Shireen was at work, which was bad, but she worked at the local grocery, which solved two problems at once.

Rose's friend, while surprised to see him, was immediately very helpful. Rose, she said, hadn't been exposed to most of the finer things in life for obvious reasons, but she loved a good pasta dish and simply adored most foreign food she had ever tried. She wasn't allergic to anything and she didn't particularly hate any food Shireen knew of, either, except Mickey's cooking and really, no one should be expected to eat that.

Shireen also laughingly informed him that "the gang" wouldn't expect to see Rose again 'til Monday. Her parting comment was a quiet but rather lewd suggestion that they just skip dinner and have each other for dessert.

Joshua was rather amused to find himself blushing.

* * *

He ran into Mickey on his third trip back to his flat, after a visit to a barber and the chemist's. Just in case, Joshua had firmly told himself. Maybe they weren't ready for all that, yet. Maybe not.

He really hoped they were.

Joshua made a point of greeting Mickey with a polite smile and a firm but friendly handshake. "Thanks for sending the DVD," he sad sincerely. "You did fantastic work."

Mickey, though obviously surprised, apparently decided if they were going to bury the hatchet somewhere other than each other's skulls, he wasn't going to protest. "Computers are my thing," he said. "Little video editing, a little formatting, easy."

"Computers, aye?" Joshua said, a bit surprised. He asked a few questions and realized he was talking to brilliance that had managed to get overlooked. Seemed there was a practical infestation of that around here and he wondered what other kinds of talent the local schools were helping go to waste.

That gave him several ideas that he'd have to talk to Rose about before he considered them seriously. She was his world, the most important part of it, so any plans he might want to make for the future had to include her. He didn't know if she had realized that yet, but he had every intention of making sure she understood.

Before they parted, Mickey's face became serious.

"Don't hurt her, mate." He told the older man, with less threat and more firmness than Joshua expected. Joshua looked bemused.

"Didn't we already have this conversation?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Yeah," Mickey told him, much of his joviality returned. "Just figured you might have been too drunk to remember."

Joshua shrugged. "Fair enough."

* * *

Rose rang the flat on her afternoon break. "I can't wait to see you," she told Joshua and he hummed happily in response. Rose grinned and stroked the petals on one of her flowers with delicate fingers. "But what do I wear?" she asked.

"Nothing," Joshua blurted out, then, even faster, "nothing special. Whatever you're comfortable in, love."

When Rose rang off, she wondered to herself if "nothing" wouldn't be the best idea they'd both ever had.

* * *

The doorbell rang at five 'til seven and Rose laughed aloud with relief when she went to answer it. Jackie appeared, however, and glowered at Rose until she stepped back and let her mum get the door.

"Mrs. Tyler," that simply wonderful voice spoke politely. "You're looking well."

Jackie humphed in annoyance, though Rose couldn't imagine what her mum had to be annoyed about, really. He was being polite, even nice as far as she knew. "Come in," Jackie said. "Can I get you a drink?"

Rose sighed. It was going to be one of those, was it?

"Wasn't planning to stay long," Joshua answered politely, but he did step inside. Rose noticed immediately that he wasn't wearing his leather jacket, but her mum still blocked her view by being a bit too close to Joshua and standing coldly with her hands on her hips. "Just came to meet Rose."

Jackie sighed and shook her head. "I want to tell you to stay away from her. I want to tell you that I know what you are and that I know you'll break her heart."

"What I am?" Joshua asked curiously. Rose could tell from his tone of voice that he was getting annoyed. She wanted to step into the conversation, but her mum was still crowding Joshua in the entry way and there wasn't really any room.

"Never mind," Jackie said, finally, and she sounded defeated or resigned or both. "Point is, it's plain to see you actually did it. You actually managed to get clean and sober. And I can't help but think that that's better and maybe if you can do that for my girl, you can stay that way." Jackie shook her head. "But I still don't like you," she added. Rose, however, could hear something other than downright disgust in Jackie's tone.

"That's fine," Joshua said, and Rose could hear his grin, almost feel it from over here. "Not many people do. Can I see Rose, now?"

Jackie stood still then, finally, nodded. "Don't mess this up," she ordered, and turned back toward the kitchen.

"See you later, Mum," Rose said softly as her mum stalked by her.

"You be safe, missie," Jackie ordered quietly as she finally retreated.

Joshua grinned broadly the minute Rose stepped into view. She smiled her best smile right back at him, and took the arm he offered. She wanted to snog him breathless was what she wanted to do, but she could still feel her mum's eyes on them and couldn't blame him for not wanting to get into the screaming fight that would probably generate.

"I've missed you," Joshua said, the minute the door closed behind them.

"Missed you, too," Rose replied breathlessly.

"You don't mind walking, do you?" Joshua asked.

"Where're we going?"

There was a small, deprecating smile on Joshua's face, now. "Well... I thought... I hope you don't mind. Couldn't arrange Paris or Venice at this late date an' reservations probably wouldn't be easy, either... so I cooked."

Rose stared at him. "You cook?" she asked. She thumped his arm lightly in indignation. "You never said!" she accused.

Joshua shrugged. "I can do many impressive things, Rose Tyler."

Rose blushed. "I'm sure you can," she answered, and almost didn't recognize her own voice. They'd reached the bottom of the stairs by now, and Joshua made a low noise that set her blood to try to reverse itself in her veins. Rose was too nervous to try to kiss him right now, but the way he looked at her, blue eyes burning into her with love and need and want, she found her courage and turned toward him, tilting her face up in invitation.

Joshua swooped in to accept the invitation of Rose's soft pink lips. Even as they parted under his touch, however, he knew he needed to break the kiss quickly. There was too much unrealized passion between them, and he wanted everything to be beautiful tonight, as beautiful as Rose was in her soft red linen dress. "You're wonderful," he whispered across her lips as he broke the kiss.

Rose nodded and swallowed hard at the sight of Joshua with his eyes closed, his tongue lingering on his parted lips as if to savor the sweet taste. He was right, though. They had time to share kisses later. In private.

If they managed to exchange fewer than a hundred kisses on the way back to Joshua's flat, they were both still quite pleased that they'd managed to behave themselves that well.

* * *

Joshua's cooking, in Rose's opinion, was every bit as wonderful as any restaurant's could be. He served a chicken parmigian that was better than any Rose had ever heard of, never mind eaten, and the steamed vegetables he served it with were done just right and delicately seasoned besides. He even had this wonderful Italian artisan bread that tasted like rosemary and was so wonderfully aromatic, Rose ate quite a bit more of it than she would normally have even considered.

That was the best thing, really, about being with Joshua. They talked happily all through the meal, about what his new friends had decided to do, about what he had missed on the Estate while he'd been gone. He even promised to tell her why the hospital blew up, but thought it had probably better wait 'til after they ate, because it was a bit disgusting. But he didn't make her feel nervous. Well, Rose was a bit nervous, but that was the nervous anticipation of what would come later, not nerves about eating in front of him or being seen as a real person and not an ornamental decoration.

She felt safe to laugh her natural laugh, smile her favorite smile, make a mess of her fingers while dipping a bit of bread in the spiced olive oil he served with it. In fact, that last made her feel alive, because his eyes darkened looking at her fingers and she could just tell Joshua was thinking about putting them into his mouth.

Rose was getting fidgety by the time the meal was over but she wanted to hear what had happened at the hospital, so when Joshua moved to clean up, she insisted on helping and asked him for the story at the same time. "If you want to tell me," she added.

Joshua frowned. He did want to tell her, and it was almost completely shocking. So he washed dishes and Rose dried them and put them away - she had learned her way around the kitchen during her visits apparently - and while they did this, Joshua talked. He told Rose about the lizards and his new friends and Colonel Mace and why he'd had to blow up the hospital. He wished the story had a better ending, like that he had managed to save everyone and everything, but days like that were very very few and very far between.

"That's horrible," Rose said, when Joshua concluded his story. "I'm so sorry. Nobody should have to live like that, and they wouldn't even let you help them."

Joshua couldn't even begin to tell Rose how proud he was to know her. He leaned up against the counter, having finished the dishes some time along about the water guns and the puttering about straightening things about the time the story moved to the basement. Rose came up beside him and leaned against him, a warm and comforting weight as she wrapped an arm around his waist and laid her head on his arm.

Joshua looked around the room, considering. It had already started to take on a slight hint of Rose's personality stamp on it, just little things put in different places than he would have done, two mugs out on the draining board, the microwave clean of fingerprints on the glass, tiny domestic things. He'd always shied away from that before, from trying to have anything ordinary, because he was afraid to lose it once he had it. He'd always been convinced in the past that he could never really have a normal life, between the aliens and his issues, between his responsibilities and the darkness inside him.

Rose, however, was here, now, his ordinary extraordinary girl, accepting him and the lizards and the shadows and the regrets. It wasn't anything like a normal life, and yet it was at the same time. If anyone could make this place a home, a real one, it was Rose Tyler. It was terrifying and it was exhilarating, and Joshua welcomed it, welcomed her.

"May I?" he asked, softly, stroking her cheek, tilting her head up as he bent over her.

"Course," Rose replied, sounding completely breathless. "You don't have to ask."

"Thought I ought to do," he replied, his eyes caught on watching her lips move. "Just to be polite."

Rose giggled and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Joshua?"

"Yes, Rose?"

"Kiss me."

"Yes, Rose."


	45. Chapter 44

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. We can't get the Doctor to come out of the basement. He read this chapter over OV's shoulder while she was editing it, and fell into one of his depressive moods after muttering something about "that bloody beach." In an effort to get him out of it, Jessa reopened that rip the the space-time continuum, and out stepped a very old man in a black suit with very prominent cheek bones. Instead of consoling the Doctor, they are now both down in the basement. The old man keeps wailing about a woman named "Susan." And neither will talk to any of us.**

_**Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons.**_

* * *

**Chapter 44:**

Joshua closed that final tiny breath of distance at last and tenderly kissed Rose. He kept his touch chaste and tentative for a moment, but one of Rose's hands speared through his hair, her fingernails scratching lightly. She sighed, a sweet warmth, and he parted his lips to catch the sigh, to breathe her in, taste her heat and her life.

All hesitation fell away. Rose melted into his awkward embrace and Joshua kissed her deeply and thoroughly, exploring her mouth, searching with increasing wonder for every single shiver, gasp, and soft moan his kiss could evoke from her. He broke from her only when he was sure they were going to topple to the floor in their driving need to be closer together. He rested his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath, trying to think. "Let me make love to you," he whispered. "I want you so much, Rose."

Rose gasped as his words poured through her like liquid heat, pooling in her belly. She was already wet with anticipation, but now her insides contracted violently, the dark desire in his voice sending another dampening burst of arousal to her center. She nodded helplessly, whispered, "Want you, too."

He grinned, his eyes bright and dark at once. "Bedroom," he decided, and gently took her hand.

They got as far as the kitchen doorway before Joshua felt compelled to seize her and kiss her again. Hands on her hips, he tugged her close to his body, reveling in the heat and the friction where they met as he pushed his hardness against her softness. Rose ran her hands up under his jumper, trailing fire across his skin everywhere she touched. The heat in his veins felt at once wondrous and new, and familiar and comfortable. It seemed, all at once, like he had never felt like this before, and like he had felt like this forever. More, he realized, he _would_ feel like this forever, would want her and need her, would feel her in his blood for the rest of his life. He tumbled willingly into the emotions and the desires, cherishing and savoring every breath and heartbeat.

He tugged the jumper off over his head and hung it over the back of the nearest chair, then caught Rose's hands and kissed her knuckles to lead her, smiling, into the bedroom. She reached for the straps of her dress and he stilled her hands, slid his around her waist, stroking lightly. "Let me," he murmured and she nodded, chewing at her lip and staring at him wide-eyed.

Rose was confused that he didn't just want her to kit off and get on with it, but what he was doing to her was so wonderful, she wasn't remotely interested in questioning him. She gasped as his fingers slipped higher, brushing the lower curve of her breasts through the thin material that covered them. "Perfect," she breathed.

Joshua chuckled, his breath cool against her throat where he leaned in to kiss the exposed skin there. "Good," he answered. "Very good."

Her fingers were as curious as his, and Joshua welcomed her exploration, it seemed, if the soft noises he was making were anything to go by. She toyed lightly with the chain around his neck while he continued to explore her skin, finding the little hollow between her collarbones and bathing it with his tongue. Rose found she liked that a lot, gasping and throwing her head back to allow him to do it again.

Joshua chuckled lightly at how responsive she was to his touch. This beautiful woman came to him of her own free will, had, in fact, sought him out over all the people she could have chosen to be with. He raised his head and looked into her eyes, trembling hands once again lowered to her waist. "Bit out of practice, me," he apologized.

Rose smiled beatifically. "Was just thinking like that myself. Never done this before, you know. Had sex, yeah, but not… you know, not made love."

Startled, Joshua caught Rose in a tight hug, cradling her head against his shoulder. He could practically feel her love for him radiating off of her in waves as he held her like this. He realized then that the actual act itself wasn't the important part of all this, not to her, any more than it was to him. What was important was making Rose feel beautiful and wanted and precious, sharing their bodies to give pleasure and a physical expression of what they felt inside. He didn't have to worry that he wouldn't meet with her approval – he already had that, and her love, and whatever they did together would be right for them.

"Let me show you, Rose," he whispered against her hair. "I love you." Joshua leaned back and tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. He grinned. "Will you keep me?"

Rose grinned back. She could feel tears welling in her eyes, and tightened her arms across his back, wishing she could pull every bit of him inside her to keep her heart feeling so full like this forever. "Long's you keep me," she answered happily. The closer and tighter Rose held him, the more she felt like he would never go away again. He was really here, really with her, and he really loved her, Rose Tyler, London shop-girl. "Love you, too, Joshua."

Rose's fingers found Joshua's nipples and she traced the responsive little peaks with curiosity. She ran the pad of her thumb across one and received another of those approving gasps, so she tried it on the other.

Joshua decorated Rose's face with tiny, chill kisses, making sure to brush her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the apples of her cheeks, her chin. He made a path down her jaw, along the column of her throat, and finally to the strap of her dress, which he had noticed before was quite loose. (It had been falling down every few minutes during the meal and she would push it back up without noticing, driving him to sometimes forget the entire thread of the conversation while he contemplated pushing it the other way.) He nudged it with his nose, unable to resist the playful gesture, and it obligingly slipped down to curve along her shoulder. So he kissed a path along – stopping to dip his tongue into the hollow of her throat again – and gave the other strap a similar treatment.

He paused to just look at his Rose, admiring her graceful shape as her whole body seemed to take on a glow that started where the overhead lights caressed her hair and became a nimbus all around her. He wanted to watch her the whole time and hoped she didn't ask him to cut off the lights. He'd once lived in a place where he could dim them to any degree without even trying, but they were either on or off here, and he definitely wanted them on where he could watch her every move and expression.

When Joshua stepped back, Rose blinked up at him, startled from her reverie over how very wonderful his bare chest felt, all smooth and with just a dusting of hair tracing a line down the center to his navel and into his jeans. "Hum?" she questioned, as words weren't really available to her anymore. All she could think was she really needed to get out of her dress.

"S'a pretty dress," Joshua murmured, his blue eyes bright and dancing with mischief. "We should take it off so it doesn't get mussed."

Rose giggled and obligingly lifted her arms over her head. Joshua groaned softly and his eyes locked on her breasts as the gesture made them rise. He paused, apparently thoughtful, then reached down and brushed his hand along her knee where the hem of the dress fell. The slowness as his cool fingers stroked a path up her thigh, pushing up the cloth as they went, was completely agonizing. "Joshua," Rose gasped, a small, pleading exclamation.

Joshua knew that Rose wasn't the only one who needed that dress gone. He tugged quickly at the fabric, lifting it over her arms, shaking his head a little in a sort of self-deprecating humor when it got caught on her fingers briefly. "Frustrating things, clothes," he pronounced.

Rose blushed. "Meant to get something nice," she said shyly, referring to her plain white strapless bra and knickers. They were the nicest she owned, but they were so… ordinary.

"These are nice," Joshua said and, to prove his point, he walked around her, appraising her blushing pink skin. He was trying to choose where to kiss first and finally, since one of the curls of her hair was dangling so invitingly down the back of her neck, he decided to go with that. "They've got you in them," he added, before bending to trace his tongue down her spine to the clasp of her bra. "Doesn't mean they're not a bit frustrating at the mo', though," he conceded, and worked his fingers into the clasp to release it.

Rose let out a startled squeak as Joshua pulled her back against his body and began to nibble lightly at the nape of her neck. Her bra dropped to the floor and her nipples immediately hardened just from the brush of the air. Then, Joshua's hands glided up from her waist to cover her breasts and Rose whimpered at the contact. His erection was pressing against her back, his hands were toying with her nipples, his teeth were teasing her neck, and Rose was losing her mind with the pleasure of it all. Her body wanted to do several things at once, press back into the hardness at her back, bow her head to his tender mouth, and arch her spine toward his hands. Oh, and melt. She whimpered in confusion and shivered.

Joshua rocked his hips lightly against Rose's body, enjoying the little hint of friction from the contact, but needing more. It really wasn't going to be enough. He had to be inside her, and then even that wasn't going to be enough. He would have to have her melting and shaking and whimpering and gasping like this as often as he possibly could.

Maybe staying in bed for a month was a good idea, after all.

He let his fingers trail down from her nipples, stopping to graze the tender undersides of her small breasts, weighing them lightly in his hands. Rose's moan was uncensored as he found a spot she particularly liked. He was a little reluctant to stop when she obviously enjoyed it so much, but kept his hands moving, searching for more places that pleased her. When his fingers found the waist band of her knickers, she shuddered all over and whispered his name, and Joshua grinned, before letting one hand trace beneath the fabric while the other made a slow, lingering path back up to her breast.

Rose turned her head to reach him, and Joshua obligingly twisted to kiss her somewhat awkwardly over her shoulder. Both hands found their goals, one teasing the hardened peak of her perfect breast, the other finding the soft mound of curls at the join of her thighs.

Rose threw her arm up to hold Joshua in the kiss, her fingers stroking at his closely shorn hair. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, he was touching her so gloriously, his hand feeling like soothing coolness against her breast. Then, his other hand found its way into her wet heat, gliding slowly down the slit, almost enough to feel something wonderful, oh god, but not quite and… She tore her mouth away from his to gulp at the air as his skillful fingers finally slipped into her folds and located the throbbing little button hidden there. She was so hot, his fingers felt like ice, but she didn't care because ice was what she needed right now, something to soothe this impossible fire that was building inside her with an intensity that was almost, but not quite, painful.

Joshua realized he wasn't going to last that long if Rose kept doing that, rocking back sharply against him and rubbing her body against his already straining length, while he teased the little bundle of nerves that brought her such pleasure. He eased off slowly, and she protested inarticulately. He stopped her wordless cries by spinning her around and kissing her fiercely.

He had believed he could go at this slowly, savoring and memorizing every single moment. He knew now that while he could savor and couldn't help the perfect recall, the time for teasing delays was over. He pushed her knickers from her hips with gentleness but urgency, then broke the kiss so he could look at her standing before him exactly as he had dreamed her before, clad in nothing but his adoring breath.

"Beautiful," Joshua breathed and Rose tipped her head down shyly. He stroked a finger under her chin and tilted her eyes up to meet his. "You're beautiful, my Rose."

She stared, her eyes hooded and drunk with lust. Slowly, she nodded. Joshua dropped his hands then, and undid the buttons on his jeans, sighing with relief. Rose's tongue appeared at the edge of her smile and she watched his hands as if they were the most interesting things she had ever seen. He couldn't help the lazy grin that worked its way onto his face as Rose licked her lips and her stare grew all the more intense. A deep breath, and he stepped out of jeans and pants together, then stood back to let her decide what she thought of the view.

What Rose thought, if she was actually thinking, per se, was that she really needed to touch him. Now. She looked a question with a sideways tilt of her head and Joshua answered with an arch of his eyebrows. She reached a single, trembling finger to play with the tiny jewel of moisture at the very tip of his shaft, then traced that finger along his entire length. His sex juddered, his hips flexed, and a low moan like a growl escaped him when she reached the base and finally closed her hand most of the way around him.

Rose had imagined several times what her Joshua would look like naked and whimsically recalled a conversation with Shireen (probably the second time they had seen him) wherein the older girl had suggested that if his hands were anything to go by, he was probably very well equipped. Fantasies hadn't done the reality any justice. He would fill her completely, stretch her, and as Rose let her hand stroke lightly up and down his length, she really, really wished he would do it now. Another wet wave of heat went tearing through her body and her internal muscles clenched tightly at the thought.

"Better stop that," Joshua murmured low, his nostrils flaring and his eyes drifting intensely along her body. Rose could almost feel him touching her everywhere his blue gaze landed, and a low, surprising noise escaped her.

Joshua closed his large hand over her small one, still wrapping heat like fire around his penis. He couldn't stop himself from guiding her hand up and down his length a few times, but the building pressure was so strong, he knew he had to stop. He gently lifted her hand to his lips, kissed each knuckle, then pulled her index finger into his mouth to suck the digit while Rose made a wonderfully startled noise of pleasure. He tasted himself and her skin and the combined flavor was as intoxicating as the entwining fragrances of their arousal slowly permeating the room.

He kissed her again because he missed her lips on his, but broke the kiss all too quickly because the wetness of her center as she writhed against his body was driving him completely out of his mind with need. He needed to be inside her, make her his forever, give himself to her and to the pleasure of their coupling. His mind darted ahead of him, presenting dozens of possible scenarios from this single point in time, and he had to work to keep from racing to any one of the glorious conclusions he could almost see before him.

Joshua guided her to the bed and gently pushed her down onto the fresh, dark sheets. Rose lay back, her golden hair a nimbus about her head, her hand stretching up to touch him. Joshua just watched her there, a dream-spun goddess, hot and wanting and welcoming as she wriggled on his bed.

Their bed.

It was the best idea he thought he'd ever had, to reach over and stroke the dark curls at the apex of her thighs, glossy with the wet evidence of his effect on her. Rose mewled and cried out and parted her legs for him, giving him the access he wanted and she needed, for him to touch her more deeply still.

Rose stopped trying to even think about anything but what Joshua was doing to her body. She couldn't concentrate, except on the heat rising urgently within her, the almost painful coil of oncoming pleasure that built and built with every stroke of his long fingers across her clit. Then, he replaced those fingers with his thumb, and slipped a finger inside her, and she bit her lip to stop herself screaming.

"Don't do that," Joshua whispered, his voice like liquid sin. "Tell me how it feels, Rose."

She gasped and didn't even try to stop the cry of pleasure that escaped her when a second finger joined the first within the center of this maelstrom building inside her. Rose felt the dip in the mattress when Joshua sat next to her, his hand never leaving her sex, his fingers slow and methodical. Rose couldn't help but open her eyes to look at him, to watch him watch her like this. His eyes were intense, burning, with only a narrow halo of blue showing at the edges. It seemed that to look in her eyes had been what he was waiting for, because Joshua's fingers increased the speed of their strokes, and his thumb pressed more tightly against the aching bud of her clit.

The coil within her suddenly broke apart and wave after wave of ecstasy went convulsing throughout her body. She lost herself completely to the blinding heat of it, the glorious thrumming and pulling as sensation washed over her like a tidal wave and dragged her under.

Joshua couldn't help grinning with satisfaction as Rose thrashed on the bed, her fingers clenching in the sheets, her internal muscles clenching around his fingers. He committed every microsecond to memory, desperate to keep this moment inside him forever. As he slowly brought her down, he felt a surge of powerful awe that this was his, for him, her body and her heart given up to him and the pleasure he could give her.

As Rose gasped and moaned and drifted slowly back to herself, Joshua sucked her flavor from his fingers and decided that he really had to taste her completely as soon as he had a chance. There would be occasions for that, and for everything else that they could imagine. Right now, the longing and the waiting had him in a grip that would not be denied. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly, lips first, then her cheek, then her eyelids. Her eyes popped open as soon as her pulled back to look at her, her arms rising to wrap around his neck and pull him down for a slow, thorough kiss.

Joshua let Rose explore his mouth, loved the tiny noises she made when his tongue traced hers. When she finally pulled away from him, he was almost completely breathless, which was an entirely new sensation to him. Rose looked simply perfect like this, dazed and disheveled and radiating love and desire.

"That was…" Rose tried to find the words, but finally just settled for a satisfied sound almost like a purr.

"Fantastic?" Joshua offered helpfully.

"Oh, yeah," she agreed, dreamily. "I never had…" She felt her flushed face managing to blush as Joshua's eyes seemed only to increase their intense heat.

"Good," he said, darkly. One of his hands drifted slowly, lazily, over her body, stopping every time she gasped to touch each spot again and again. This was just his, then; he was the first man to give her this kind of pleasure. The only man, if he had his way.

He reached for the bedside table and snagged a small foil wrapped package from the drawer. On impulse, he handed the package to Rose, a brilliant excuse to have her hands on his naked skin. Rose nibbled her lip. "What is it?" he asked. Becoming lovers seemed to have made it even easier to read her body language, and right now, she was hesitant about something, unsure.

"Um… we don't have to have this if you don't want." She frowned as if unsure how he would receive the most trusting, giving offer he had ever had in his life. "I've been having the shots since I was sixteen and they said that's almost completely reliable."

Joshua nodded. "Up to you," he decided.

She smiled, then. "Never tried it without one before," she said. Her eyes were so dark, full of a thousand emotions at once as she peered deeply into him. "And I trust you."

"Rose," Joshua breathed, her name forced from his lips by the sudden fullness of his hearts as they tried to make room for more emotion.

Right. Had to have her. Now.

Rose shuddered, pressed into the pillows by the weight of what she saw. Joshua's face went still and serious, and his eyes seemed to catch fire. He lowered his mouth to claim hers in a kiss that went from sweet and tender to possessive and blazing in the space of a heart beat. Her body responded in kind, switching from gentle languor to aching need.

Joshua shifted until his weight covered her, somehow managing not to break the kiss until he had settled into his rightful place. Definitely where he belonged, Rose decided, as her hips shifted against his, trying to get closer. She needed him in her, wanted him to take her and make her his forever, to know by their actions that he was hers. His head lowered and his lips closed on one of her nipples, his tongue lavishing the hardened little peak. Her whole body bucked with her delight.

Joshua groaned and started to suck and nip alternately, his hand mimicking his actions on the opposite peak. Rose keened and writhed beneath him, wanted him, needed him, please now, please pleaseplease…

He shifted his mouth's attention to the other breast. Rose discovered that, as much as she had found it interesting to carefully trace his ears with her finger until this point, it was also convenient to tug lightly at one to get his attention. He looked up at her and something of her urgency must have communicated itself to him, because his eyes darkened again and he shifted himself to kiss her hungrily.

When he broke the kiss this time, Rose knew she was lost. "Joshua, my Joshua, Joshua…" her voice sounded hoarse and a bit frantic even in her own ears.

Joshua shifted again, his weight bearing down on her a bit more, and then she felt him pressing at her entrance. Rose broke off her mantra of his name in favor of a sob of frustrated passion. Joshua whispered something she could neither hear nor understand. "Love you," he added, "my Rose."

When at last he entered her body, it was with a low, soft cry of such utter joy it brought tears to Rose's eyes. "So good," she breathed, her hand coming up to cradle the back of his head when he dropped it to her shoulder.

Joshua was completely still for a moment, stunned by the feeling of completion that being inside his Rose brought him. Her tight heat stretched to accommodate him, clenching around him as she writhed beneath him, surrendering completely to their passion. When she shifted to bring a leg up around his waist, Joshua began to move, slowly, indescribable pleasure pulsing through him with every reluctant withdrawal and every grateful return.

Part of him wanted to race to the end, to find his own release, but the desire to savor was still winning for the moment. Rose was so slick and hot where she enfolded his sex. She was so sensual and erotic as she adjusted her movements to his slow, deep thrusts. She smelled like rain and sweat and sex and him and Joshua knew he had found a new calling in life – to devote the entirety of his vast imagination to inventing new and interesting ways to make Rose Tyler come apart.

Rose had guessed, at least, that being with Joshua like this would be different, heart-breakingly beautiful, but never in her wildest fantasies (and she'd had some doozies late nights in this bed) had she imagined anything like this. He braced himself above her with one hand, and the other was constantly touching and caressing her. He moved inside her with long, slow, powerful thrusts that were making her whole body throb in sync with his rhythm. That coiling ache inside her was building again, faster this time, with a sharper, hotter, wilder intensity. She wanted, she was wanted, she burned for him, only him. If Rose never did anything else in her entire life but make love with Joshua Stewart, she would count it all time well spent.

She brought her other leg up around his waist and Joshua groaned as the motion allowed for an even deeper penetration. He shifted his weight and angled his hips so that he was pressing against her clitoris every time he returned to her. "Rose," he groaned, "look at me."

Her eyes popped open and she stared at him, her hazy, hooded gaze searing him as much as her body heat. He pulled back and thrust into her again, faster this time. She gasped in return, her body arching sharply to meet and match the new rhythm he set. "Don't stop looking at me," he ordered, even as he felt himself lengthen and harden further inside her.

Rose's fingers clenched at the muscles of Joshua's shoulders. She couldn't stop herself digging her nails into the skin when she realized that the tremors starting in her belly were going to break in waves of bliss at any second. Joshua didn't seem to mind in the slightest, groaned low and loud and drove into her faster, and the sounds he was making with every move were part of the force that was dragging her to heights she'd never even believed in before. "That's right," he encouraged. "I'm yours, Rose. Mark me all you want."

His voice alone might push her over at this point.

Couldn't catch her breath, couldn't think, couldn't stop clinging to him desperately as he plowed into her now, his thrusts short and sharp and increasingly desperate. She clung to him, gasping, whimpering, moaning, sighing, her whole body straining to reach the promised peak that loomed before them…building… building… just…

There!

Rose's eyes went huge and she screamed as her orgasm hit her, her whole body convulsing spasmodically. Her internal muscles squeezed him tight, pulsing, blinding him to everything but heat and her. Joshua shouted absolute triumph.

Rose continued to cling to him and her body was still wracked with tremors. There was nothing left on his mind but Rose and steady and don't not yet and please and need and yes oh fuck yes and Rose Rose Rose...

Her name was a strangled cry from his lips as he found his release at last, coming hard, buried to the hilt inside her body.

Spent, Joshua still couldn't find it in him to separate from Rose until he absolutely had to do. He wrapped his arms around her sweating, shaking body and rolled them until she was sprawled on top of him, his softening shaft still nestled comfortably inside her. Rose laid her head on his chest and murmured softly.

"I love you," Rose said, listening intently to the thundering of his doubled heart beats wrapped around her own single thud that still hammered in her chest and her ears. "Love you so much. Joshua, love you…" She would never remember all the words of love that poured from her lips.

Joshua, cradling her head and tenderly caressing her hair, whispered her name. She might never remember her words, but he would never forget.

"Forever," she breathed.

"Forever," he answered quietly, and held her while she drifted into a well earned sleep.


	46. Chapter 45

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Jessa is blaming the Doctor for the weather. OV is blaming the Doctor for Jessa being annoyed and has taken a leaf from Jessa's book. She opened up that funny space time rip and dragged in some enormous bear of a man with golden curls and a gob to rival the Doctor's own. The Doctor ran screaming, "No, not the Technicolor Abomination!!" Jack also ran, screaming, "My eyes, they burn!!!" Jessa has cheered up and is currently trying to steal the coat. OV can't understand the fascination, as she has put on sunglasses to protect herself from the glare.**

**_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._**

* * *

Chapter 45:

Rose drifted awake to a sensation she was certain she would definitely enjoy getting used to. Joshua's hand was stroking her belly, long fingers splayed, cool and comforting, against her heated skin. Complete awareness crept in while she stretched languidly and a low, soft growl made itself heard from the body spooned behind her.

"Good morning," Joshua whispered against her hair.

"It's good," Rose agreed playfully, snaking a hand around to stroke his hip. "Is it morning?"

"About half five," was punctuated by a wet kiss to the nape of her neck.

Rose gasped at the sensation and tipped her head to let him traces those kisses where ever he wanted them. "You tired me out, I guess," she admitted sheepishly.

She felt Joshua grin against her skin. "I tried," he agreed darkly. He lifted himself on an elbow to lean over her and attempted to kiss her.

"You don't wanna do that," Rose cautioned, turning her head into the pillows.

"Yeah, I do," he shot back, and the hardness of the erection he pressed into her back pretty much confirmed it.

Rose tittered nervously. "Just gimme a minute," she requested, turning her head to look into lazily sparkling blue eyes.

Joshua pouted, but nodded and let her go. The pout didn't suit him at all, and Rose could hardly believe how much she wanted to kiss it off his face. She expected him to at least move so she could get out of the bed. It was possible to get out on her side, but it wasn't easy. He didn't, though. He just rolled onto his back and grinned at her, eyes bright as he watched to see what she would do, his cock at full attention, twitching a bit as if to capture her attention.

Rose's fingers absolutely itched to stroke him. The knowing look in Joshua's eyes was mischief and temptation. He might as well have said "I dare you," as recline there, smirking at her.

Right. Well, this was a game that was definitely better with two. She rose to her knees and straddled him, eliciting a startled gasp as her damp sex rubbed against his shaft. The mirth in his eyes was instantly replaced by hunger and his hands closed on her hips.

Unable to help herself, Rose rocked against Joshua's body, reveling in the way his hips moved to meet her. Heat flared, liquid and intense, as Joshua trailed one hand up to pinch her nipple. Rose squeaked a protest at the slightly excessive force, but he soothed it quickly with the pad of his thumb. Rose leaned over then, just enough that her breasts were brushing his chest. "Comfy?" she asked playfully.

"Almost," Joshua answered and rocked his hips more sharply, trying apparently to move her into a better position. "You?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Rose said, sitting back up and stretching her hands above her head. She felt amazing, strong and confident and so very well loved. She could get away with teasing him – he wanted her to do, had practically invited her.

Joshua's hands caressed slow, lingering circles along her sides. "The view's nice," he observed and the caressing hands suddenly shifted to tickling.

Rose shrieked and giggled and collapsed against his chest, batting futilely at his tickling fingers. This was all so new. Laughing and tickling and teasing seemed completely absurd, but it felt, just… right. She nipped lightly at Joshua's shoulder and he stopped tickling her, chortling with mirth.

"Oi, now. I'm fragile."

"Pull the other one," Rose shot back.

His grin turned into something deliciously wicked and his hands cupped the backs of her thighs. "Yes, ma'am," he said with a puckish wink. A sharp tug and the tip of his cock was at her entrance.

Rose gasped. "Joshua," she squeaked.

"Rose," he said softly. The way he said her name sent shivers through her whole body. Then, his long fingers slipped between them, finding the button of her clit and pressing tight circles that instantly brought her to aching, shaking arousal. "This all right, love?"

In answer, she allowed herself to sink slowly down on him, gradually taking his length inside her body, reveling in the deep groan that tore free from his chest. Rose sighed with relief when he was fully sheathed, a feeling a complete rightness stealing over her with Joshua's cock hard as steel inside her.

"So hot," he murmured.

"You feel so good," Rose breathed, pushing herself up so that she could look down and watch his face.

"Yeah, I do," Joshua joked. "Fantastic, in fact."

Rose giggled and he groaned, again. A sharp thrust of his hips cut off her giggles as abruptly as they'd started. Instinct and one of his hands guided her movements; his other hand went back to pressing against her aching clit. As Rose gained confidence, she moved faster, reaching for the climax building inside her, her body surrendering completely to sensation.

Joshua's voice joined the noises Rose made as she rode him. "Yes, Rose, oh fuck, yes." His words drifted to profanity and beautiful noises, punctuated by her name sounding like it was being torn from his lips. Rose lost all sense of rhythm or control, rocking against him, feeling his shaft harder than ever inside her, raising and lowering, just moving in whatever way felt best, felt like it brought her orgasm closer.

Rose wasn't even aware of what came out of her mouth, lost as she was in need and ache and oh god, please, want to come, want to watch you, god, yes, Joshua, my god, please…

She came with a shout of his name, still desperately writhing against him, burning, clenching, needing to watch him. Both of his hands went to her bum and his finger tips dug into her flesh as he thrust erratically up into her body, reaching for a release that seemed just beyond his reach. Rose raked a hand down his chest, stopping to pinch his nipple.

Joshua jerked and shook, inside her and against her, his cock pulsing and twitching, his cool seed spurting inside her.

Rose collapsed against his chest, decorating his sweaty skin with tiny kisses and light nips where ever her lips brushed. Joshua just wrapped his arms around her, petting her hair, stroking her shoulders, whispering her name.

When his shaft softened and they finally separated, he gave her another wicked grin. "Think I just got fucked without a kiss," he observed. "Always wondered what that figure of speech meant."

Rose kissed the tip of his long nose. "Better?" she asked.

"Wasn't complaining," he said, and they both dissolved into laughter.

* * *

In the kitchen, fixing a light breakfast for two, Joshua discovered that he enjoyed spending time cooking with Rose almost as much as he enjoyed spending time in bed with Rose. Almost.

He wasn't just happy. He was giddy, high on hormones and Rose and letting his sex drive get the better of him and Rose. She seemed a little baffled by his current attitude, but she was shining and laughing along with him, her dark eyes dancing.

"You sing in the shower," she observed over breakfast.

"So do you," he shot back.

"Yeah, but I hadn't realized before that you do. You've got a nice voice."

"Nice?" he demanded, playfully indignant. He shot her a lazy grin he was coming to realize she particularly liked.

Rose's answer came out sultry and sounding like temptation itself. "Could listen to you read from the directory."

Joshua answered in kind. "Not likely to run out of inspiration any time soon, with you around, but if I do, I'll have that to fall back on."

"Inspiration?" Rose asked, her eyes a little startled.

"Yeah. For example, you in my robe's inspiring me to consider shoving you over this table and having my way with you."

Rose gasped and blushed a perfectly lovely shade. Joshua watched with interest as her eyes slowly glazed and went hooded, her skin slowly shifting from blushed to flushed. "What're you thinkin' about, love?" he asked, though he really didn't even have to read minds to figure that one out.

Rose startled and bit her lip. Then, she shot him that grin he liked best, with her tongue peeking out through her teeth. "Letting you," she whispered.

"Fantastic."

* * *

"So, I was wondering," Rose began. She was draped across Joshua's chest, their legs entangled, her hands stroking idly at his hair. He was half-asleep, at least. "Is John gonna come over this afternoon? You usually go running with him on Saturdays, I know."

Joshua's face screwed up in a sort of vague annoyance. "Forgot," he mumbled. "Probably ought to call him, anyway. He'll yell, though. Uncle Alistair yelled."

"You scared him, probably."

"Takes a lot ta scare Uncle Alistair," Joshua chuffed.

"He was probably worried about you, though," Rose said.

"Didn't think o' that." He shrugged and, next thing Rose knew, he was snoring on her shoulder.

He didn't wake up until the phone rang two hours later, but Rose joined him quite comfortably in his nap and didn't actually notice.

* * *

"Well, it's raining," Joshua observed, staring out the window in annoyance. He dropped the cordless phone down onto a book shelf and glowered at the outside world as if it had done this on purpose to offend him. "That lets out running and shopping, 'less you want to go to Queen's Arcade or some such. Any ideas?"

Rose blinked at him in surprise. She was sprawled across the sofa at the moment, a bit too groggy from her interrupted nap to consider jumping on Joshua and kissing the frustration off his face, although she was thinking about it. He wasn't a man who should be allowed to get bored but at the moment her mind was blank of random historical quizzes she could hit him with, as she had done a couple times when he was staying with Harry. "What, like, I dunno, playing Scrabble or something?"

He perked right up, turning away from the window to grin at her brightly. "Could do, yeah," he said, striding purposefully toward the music room.

"What, seriously?" she called after his retreating back.

"S'wrong with Scrabble?" he called back.

Rose snorted, looking at the thesaurus on the table next to her foot, the thesaurus that looked like it had never in its existence been even cracked open. "Besides the fact that you'll probably kick my arse?" She sighed. "Go on, then, Scrabble it is."

Rose's mobile rang sometime between Joshua managing to plunk down "aardvark" over a double word score and Rose having to look up the bonus points for using all seven letters. He wasn't just winning, he was wiping the board with her.

She shrugged and listened with half an ear to her mum complain about some new something she and Bev had found somewhere. Rose neither cared what the details were, nor particularly understood why her mum felt the urge to call and complain at her about it. She stared at the tiles in front of her, moving them around, trying to decide where the best place to put them would be.

"You gonna play anytime soon?" Joshua asked cheerfully, his voice pitched in a way Rose suspected was meant for her mum to hear him.

"What in God's name are you two doing?" Jackie demanded.

"Playing Scrabble," Rose answered and dropped "jade", with the "j" on a triple letter score, across the aardvark.

"Interesting thing about jade," Joshua commented. "Two different stones recognized as jade – either jadeite or nephrite. Comes in lotsa different colors, ranging from a sort of murky gray to a peaky looking purple." He jotted her score down and offered her the bag with the tiles. "First stone on Earth ever considered precious, probably, and certainly the first to have lots of fakes. The Aztecs valued it even above gold."

"You are not!" Jackie denounced while the quiet lecture took most of Rose's attention.

"No, seriously," Rose insisted. "We're playing Scrabble an' I'm learning something new every time I find a good word, too." She snapped a shot of the board with the phone's camera and sent it to her mum as proof.

"You're both mad," Jackie decided, and rang off.

"That was fun," Joshua announced with a beaming grin.

Rose stretched out on the blanket they'd spread across the sitting room floor and nodded. "So, what were you saying about jade, then?" she wondered.

He was only winning by the fifty bonus points he'd gotten for the aardvark when Rose managed to attach her name to another word – making a plural – and intersect a triple word score at the same time. "Hah, almost caught you!" she exclaimed as she totted up her score and wrote it down.

Joshua grinned evilly and attached "quartz" to her "r". "I give up," Rose surrendered, laughing ruefully. "Spare me some dignity and don't tell me."

"Seventy-two points," he said grandly.

Rose pounced on him.

* * *

"Still want to go to Paris?" Joshua asked. He gestured at the screen of the Powerbook and Rose leaned over his shoulder, looking in fascination at some pictures he'd pulled up.

"Where's this?" she wondered.

"Notre Dame. Thought you'd been before?"

Rose pulled up the chair next to his, still waiting for the kettle to boil, and leaned over on his arm. He brushed her hand, pleased with the utter contentment shining in her dark eyes. "It was a school trip," she said. "They took us to school tours sights, I think, but I'd much rather see it with you."

"For the romance?" he asked, unable to resist teasing his precious girl just a little.

Rose smiled and kissed his cheek. "That, too," she admitted softly. "I'm counting on much more interesting stories, though," she added flippantly. "They leave out all the good stuff that might actually make you want to pay attention. At least, that's what they did in my school."

Joshua frowned and nodded. "What is it?" Rose wondered.

"Just reminded me," he said. "Something I've been meaning to talk over with you, actually. Ya see, I was talking to Mickey…"

"You got his name right!" Rose exclaimed joyfully. She snogged him enthusiastically and for all that Joshua felt like he was being behavior-trained, he wasn't interested in arguing with the method in the slightest.

"Right, where was I?" he said, when she broke the kiss and jumped up to get the kettle. "Oh, yeah, talking to Mickey. That kid knows a lot about computers and you're talking to someone who would know."

Rose snickered. "He said you probably didn't, since you use a Mac."

Joshua snorted and stood up to find a packet of biscuits he'd bought on his grocery trip. They were chocolate and he hoped Rose would like them. "No, that's exactly why I use a Mac, but never mind, I think I cured him of his misapprehensions." He pulled out the milk, sniffed at it, and smiled, then set it on the counter near to hand. "Point is, I found out yours isn't the only gifted mind that escaped that school without being noticed and I thought… well, it's something Uncle Alistair did for awhile after he first retired, and everyone says I need to keep me mind busy…"

Rose turned her full attention to him. "What is it, love?" she asked gently.

Joshua realized right then that he'd be vacillating or babbling, one or the other… or possibly both. "I was thinking I might take up teaching," he suggested.

Rose beamed at him. "I think that's wonderful. Already told you you'd make a great teacher, and a hell of a lot more interesting than the ones I had, that's for sure."

Joshua grinned, not sure why he was relieved, but he really was. "Guess I expected you ta say I should stick to chasing aliens," he admitted.

Rose shook her head. "Don't think so," she said grimly. "You can't go back to chasing aliens 'til you teach me how to help you catch them."

"What?" he asked, wondering if he'd really heard what he thought he did.

"John sorta didn't tell me that you've been doing that a long time all on your own." Her chin came up and her eyes practically sparked with her determination as she gazed into his eyes. "But you're not on your own anymore, Joshua. There's me, an' I want to help you. I want to be with you whether we're going to tour Paris or chase lizards or talk about what you're planning for a pack of bored teenagers at the local secondary."

The tea managed to get completely forgotten when he covered her lips in a fierce, hungry, desperate kiss.

* * *

"Joshua, please, Joshua!!" Rose gasped and writhed beneath his lips and Joshua paused only long enough to grin at her wickedly before diving determinedly back into his work.

She was perfect like this, he'd already decided that. Sprawled across their bed with her hands fisted into the sheets, her face twisted in pleasure, her body sparkling with a light sheen of sweat. She was glorious, and she tasted like sex and hope and heaven. He tightened his grip on her thigh as she struggled for completion, hips bucking toward him while she begged him alternately to stop now and never stop.

Joshua prodded her throbbing clitoris with his tongue, nipped it lightly, and shifted his confining grip on her shaking body. He thrust two long fingers deep inside her and she came at last, shouting his name with joy and relief. He buried his face between her thighs and lapped her orgasm from her center, bringing her back down to Earth and him, and feeling almost ridiculously pleased with himself.

He let her rest for a few minutes, his head pillowed between her breasts, listening to the throbbing beat of her heart. As Rose's hand finally released its death grip on the bed sheets and came up to stroke his ear instead, he tilted his head and lavished his attention on the pebbled peak of the breast nearest him.

Rose whispered his name as Joshua thrust himself inside her, made a litany of it as he stroked his way rapidly to completion. When he pinched her sensitized bundle of nerves, he brought her over again while he fell, tumbling helplessly, ecstatic and beloved.

"Rose Tyler, I love you," he murmured against her hair.

"Love you, too." Her whispered reply filled his hearts to overflowing, filled his eyes with tears of joy, and filled his head with an exquisite melody.

He never wanted this to end. Not ever.

* * *

Rose learned a lot about Joshua that weekend. He had a habit, for example, of sleeping when he was tired, and not until. She could wake up at almost any hour whether from a nap or from an actual sleep, and was just as likely to find him watching her as to find him snoring next to her.

He was a cuddler, which almost seemed to appall him as much as it amused her. He didn't seem the cuddling type, her Joshua, with his forbidding looks and his haughty, off-putting body language, but get rid of the barriers, and he wanted to be touching constantly, seemed to practically need the physical contact. Thankfully, Rose was a very tactile person herself.

If you turned on the right music, he suddenly became a dancer. Rose loved that, as soon as she found the music player on his laptop. He moved like water, like grace embodied, and they had a blast just dancing around each other in the sitting room and showing off their "moves."

He had been singing as long as he could remember. He could name every constellation that should be visible in the summer sky but couldn't tell you what was in his own spice rack if his life depended on it. He had an almost eerie sense of what was likely to be going on in the world, as was proved by the arrival of the Sunday paper.

He really didn't like "domestic." What he meant by that word, though, seemed to be completely flexible and open for interpretation. Doing the dishes together wasn't domestic, but a small fight between him and his computer over something to do with some bills he had set up to pay themselves or some such decidedly was. Her mother was "domestic". Being invited to Sunday tea by her mother, on the other hand, was a nightmare fully equivalent to the end of the world as far as he was concerned.

More than the things Rose learned about Joshua, however, were the rather astonishing things she learned about herself.

Apparently, she didn't do domestic, either. The very idea of listening to her mother chatter over shepherd's pie and asking Joshua pointed questions put ice in her blood. The fact that she had to do laundry before Monday morning made her want to scream. Cooking with Joshua was not domestic. The idea, however, of cooking at her mum's for Joshua set her hands trembling.

She learned that she liked sex. It wasn't that she hadn't before… all right, yes it was. As far as she'd known before this, sex was something women enjoyed if they were lucky, quick, and careful. Jimmy had been a six minute shag, if that, and she'd been lucky if she'd even been interested enough not to get hurt in the time it took him to go from zero to gone. Joshua wasn't just a complete polar opposite – he was in a whole different league. He took his time with her, savored every single second they spent exploring each other. He seemed to take an almost obscene delight in how wet he could make her with the sound of his voice alone. Her pleasure, he insisted, was his, too, and he could prove it – and did.

Beyond her new sex life, though, Rose learned that she really hadn't known a thing about love, not really. Love wasn't some romance novel concept of a series of terrors and unlikely miracles followed by a happily ever after. It was that, too, but it was also arguing mildly over who got to read the comics page first. It was standing there forcing yourself not to laugh while the man you love argued extensively with his computer like it was a living person and likely to talk back to him.

Rose realized that she had a lot to learn and, as she said goodnight to Joshua before she went home to deal with the accursed laundry for Monday, she found she couldn't wait to get started.


	47. Chapter 46

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Rather Epic Disclaimer: ****The Doctor has clearly gone insane, and is bent on taking all of us down with him. Jessa has complained non-stop about her computer, so the Doctor converted every metal object in the house to play om-com.****Because he's feeling especially petulant, all they're playing is "It's a Small World."****OV reached through the space-time breach and brought out two very short men, one with a Beatles haircut and fur coat, the other with a luridly bright waistcoat and a question-mark handled brolly. Unfortunately, the three short people in the room are doing nothing but arguing with the lyrics, and the three tall people are still going mad (except the Doctor who was already there, obviously).****And now Jack has been hypnotized by the unremitting cheeriness and is singing along. ****OV, having given up on Jessa in the face of her blatant disregard for this potential disaster, is dragging Jack out with a pistol to his ear.****She doesn't really mean to harm him, just to kill him so that when he revives, he is no longer singin****g that infernal song. No one is able to convince her, at this point, that killing him is harming him. To be honest, right now no one is even thinking about those contracts.**

_Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons._

* * *

**Chapter 46:**

"I just wondered," Joshua began one evening after a late supper, "when d'ya want to move in? If you want to at all, of course?"

Rose frowned. "I'm not so sure…" Joshua's expression instantly closed off, and Rose leaned back, knowing she'd said something completely wrong. "No, don't," she pleaded when he rose from his seat and started cleaning up.

"Don't what?" he asked, turning to her with that broad, fake grin of his. "Dishes won't do themselves, ya know."

"Not that." Rose sighed. "Here, let me help you."

"I'm fine," he assured her gently. "Ya prob'ly shouldn't even be here this late, really, what with havin' to get up in the mornin' an' everything."

"Don't do this," she pleaded. "Don't shut me out."

Joshua chuffed, leaning back on his heels to regard her darkly down the length of his nose. She continued to stare at him, forcing eye contact, and finally the blue eyes softened. "I'll not shut you out, Rose, but you've got ta tell me what you're thinkin'. I can't read your mind. You've been nervous as hell all week long."

Rose hadn't realized he'd noticed, but of course those piercing blue eyes might just see everything. "I… It's nothing."

"Oh, no, ya don't," Joshua interrupted with a shake of his head. "Ya can't ask me not to shut you out and then close the door in me face. We're gonna talk about this. Now, before it becomes a real problem." He set the dishes he'd been collecting down on the counter, then reached over and took her hand. Firmly but gently, he led her into the sitting room and pushed her down next to him on the sofa, turning so that he faced her.

Rose, though she felt a bit cornered, was also completely relieved. It felt like she'd been being a bit stupid, really, now, keeping her worries to herself, but she hadn't known how to begin to tell him in the first place. His piercing gaze had the exact effect it had the very first time she sat here, making her feel like he was searching her for a door into her insides where she couldn't hide from him anymore. This time, however, it was a relief in a way that it hadn't been before. She trusted him with her heart, surely she could trust him with her fears for it.

"Everyone is talking," she began at last. "An' it's not true, what they're saying, I mean, an' I hope you don't think it is."

"What're they saying?" Joshua asked, his eyebrows drawn together, his head tilted to the side.

If Rose had learned anything about reading Joshua's expressions, he genuinely had no idea what she meant, and that fact completely floored her. Accustomed as she was to life on the Estate, where everyone knew everyone's business whether they liked it or not, she hadn't anticipated the possibility that he was completely out of the loop.

Then, again, he hadn't been down the Pub and he avoided the Estate simply because Rose's mum was alternating between wanting to behead him and wanting to "get to know" him. "Just… I don't know what to say," she admitted. "But… well, they sorta think I'm a slag."

"That's not true!" he snapped hotly. "Rose, ya can't let people's opinions get ta you like that. They don't know anything about you if they think that…"

She shook her head sharply to cut him off. "It's 'cuz you're older'n me by so much – they think you're goin' through a mid-life crisis an' I'm…"

He cut her off this time, jumping to his feet and pacing the length of the room with quick, short steps. "Maybe I am," he said. "Don't remember ever havin' been like this before, tell the truth."

Rose stared at him in utter shock. She hadn't thought of it this way before, but it sorta made sense… it just wasn't pretty, taken to its natural end.

"Difference here is I love you. You, Rose Tyler, not just the way you make me feel physically. You're gonna get older, but that's not a bad thing. Means you'll get stronger and braver and, knowin' you, smarter. And prettier, I've no doubt. Only a very stupid ape thinks a woman's gotta stop bein' beautiful just because she turns twenty – or thirty, or fifty."

Or maybe it was the most beautiful piece of honesty Rose had ever heard in her life.

"This why you're nervous about movin' in with me? 'Cuz of what these stupid people who don't know you and don't deserve to might think of you?" He snorted. "I thought you were better'n that, Rose."

"I am!" Rose protested, jumping to her feet and crossing the room to crowd his personal space. "I don't care what they think of me. What I care about is what you think of me, Joshua. An' I'm not movin' in with you an' taking your money and lettin' you pay all my bills an' look after me like I'm a child or somethin'."

Joshua drew back sharply, his face the very picture of shock. "I never suggested…"

"Didn't you?" Rose demanded. "You want me to quit my job, an' who'll pay my way if I do that, yeah? I'm not doing it!"

"I want you to quit your job because I'm a selfish bastard, Rose," he said with a sudden grin. "That's nothin' to do with this. Half the time I see you when you've been there an' it takes you forever to smile, an' I don't like that, either. They make you unhappy, an' they take your time away from me, an' that's all. You wanna work at Henrick's, you go right ahead an' work there. But don't expect me to like it that they make you sad and tired and bored."

"Oh," was all she could say to that.

Joshua shook his head, reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. "You tell me when you're ready, love. I want you with me, however I can have you around."

Rose found that Joshua's arms were the very best place to be to soothe any fear she might have.

* * *

"Rose, there's just one thing," Joshua murmured as Rose lay very nearly asleep across their bed.

"Hum?" she mumbled, about the best she could manage.

"When – if – you move in here, you're not painting anything pink."

"Wasn't gonna," she groused and buried her face in her pillow. "'Bout blue?" she said.

Whatever he might have had to say about that, she didn't stay awake to find out.

* * *

Saturday found them making the long drive north to the Country Estate, again. Joshua was quiet until they left London behind, but Rose attributed that to the car he was driving, which was new and dark blue and comfy, but about which Rose had no particular opinion. She didn't know the first thing about cars, really, so when he'd asked her opinion, she'd said it was pretty, which had mortally offended him, but ended that discussion.

Apparently, this was the car Joshua was set on buying to replace the one he'd introduced to the lamp post more than a month ago. That one, though they'd originally thought it could be fixed, was a total loss due to some physical damage to do with the way it was designed. He seemed to be content with this one, but like any bloke, had apparently wanted her to be more impressed with it or something.

"Are you still annoyed at me about the car?" Rose ventured.

"What?" Joshua asked. "No, don't be silly."

"What've you gone all quiet for, then?"

"Ah." Joshua shrugged and, of course, stayed quiet for awhile, before he finally confessed, "Bit nervous, I s'pose."

"I thought we were just going to see your aunt and uncle, hear about their trip and everything."

"Yeah," he agreed, and his voice sounded quite glum as he paid attention to the road.

Rose turned the radio down and put a comforting hand on Joshua's thigh. "Why're you nervous, then?"

"I blew up a hospital," Joshua reminded her. "Can't say it didn't need blowing up, mind, even without the aliens in it, but it was a hospital an' people sorta expect those not to be blown up, even with aliens in 'em."

"You did what had to be done," Rose argued back firmly. "Your uncle's not gonna hold that against you."

Joshua shrugged again and finally sighed. "I'm just not used to having to deal with the aftermath, s'all," he admitted. "Never really had to stay around ta handle the paperwork. An' there'll have been reams o' that, I'm sure. Course, most of it was Colonel Mace's problem, but he'll have complained about it. Between that and just blowin' up the building in the first place, I'm not sure Uncle Alistair's gonna be best pleased with me."

"Your uncle loves you, Joshua. You can tell every time he looks at you." Rose wondered why an important conversation likes this, where she really wanted to grab him and shake him, had to take place on the road where she couldn't so much as catch his eye. "He'll be proud that you managed to get all the patients out. He's not gonna disown you just 'cuz you managed to aggravate some people while you were at it."

"Hope you're right," Joshua answered glumly.

Rose smiled softly. For a man who went on about not caring what other people thought, he really put a lot of stock into his uncle's opinion. Of course, Rose imagined if she had had her dad around, she might have tried harder in life, since she would have had him to live up to, and her mum had assured Rose that Pete Tyler was a great man. "I know I'm right," she promised gently. "'Sides, your aunt won't let him."

Joshua finally chuckled at this point, and Rose could see him relax. The rest of the drive was a much happier affair.

* * *

The difference between Joshua and the Doctor was blatantly obvious this time, the Brigadier decided. Whereas Joshua had stood at a nervous parade rest and waited for his uncle to lower the boom on him, the Doctor was now smirking at the Brigadier. He was posed jauntily against the wingback leather chair across the desk from the Brigadier, but neither the pose nor the grin did anything to hide the ancient weariness in his shadowed eyes.

"This is very strange," the Brigadier decided.

"Tell me about it," the Doctor agreed cheerfully.

The Brigadier, deciding that time was short and the Doctor's ability to confuse infinite, elected to sort out his personal feelings on the situation later. "Now that you've found a new companion, blown up a hospital, and aged me almost ten years, is it time for you to come back?"

The Doctor's face immediately fell, his jovial façade washed away like watercolor in the rain. A pained grimace replaced the grin, and the sparkle in his eyes became decidedly damp. "I don't think it's a good idea, yet," the Doctor said, his voice as grim as a funeral procession.

He looked down at his hands and the Brigadier followed the haunted blue gaze, unsurprised to see the terrified tremors reassert themselves. "Unless…" he looked up again and met the other man's eyes. The Brigadier flinched under their alien intensity but forced himself not to look away. "Unless I'm inconveniencing you lot?"

His tone was as wistful as it was sad. There was genuine concern in his expression, and a kind of plea the Time Lord would never give voice. The Brigadier resolved to talk over what he thought he was seeing with his wife, but for now, he just shook his head. "Of course not, Doctor," he said bracingly. "I've told you before you're welcome with us as long as you need. If this is helping you… it is helping you?"

The Doctor smiled then, a true, small, and simple smile, an expression the Brigadier realized he probably wouldn't have even recognized if he hadn't seen the expression on Joshua's face. "It is helping," the Doctor assured, "in ways I never anticipated. Joshua's got most of my problems and can't run away from any of 'em. Turns out havin' a reason not to run sorta makes up for it."

The Brigadier rolled his eyes, more amused than annoyed, especially as pale pink color tinged the Time Lords cheeks and ears at that unusually honest confession. "You mean Rose?"

The Doctor shook his head, sinking into his leather jacket a little, almost as if it could hide his blush. "She's part of it, yeah, but that's not all by a damn sight." He stood up straighter, then, a posture more common to Joshua than the Doctor as he shot the other man an apologetic, rueful glance. "You must think I'm a complete pervert. I know her mum does and she's not got any idea… Rose."

The pretty young blonde hovered uncertainly in the doorway, her knuckles raised to the frame as if she'd been about to knock. "Sorry," Rose apologized, looking from one man to the other with the same concerned glance. "Didn't mean to interrupt, just Doris said tea's on the veranda, if that's ok."

"We'll join you shortly," the Brigadier assured the girl, wondering if now was a good time to panic. Time was running short and, though he really wasn't worried about asking the Doctor anything else, he wasn't sure how this would work. The Doctor – or Joshua, upon being returned from inside the Doctor's psyche, anyway – had lost consciousness both times they'd tried this so far.

The Doctor, meanwhile, had crossed the room in three long, determined strides, and reached out a hand to stroke the girl's face in a gesture that made the Brigadier feel rather as if he was intruding on something very intimate. The girl tilted her head into his hand, smiling up into his eyes. "You all right?" she asked softly.

"I'm fantastic, love. We'll be with you in a mo'." Nodding, but still with a frown etched to her lips and her brow, Rose stepped back and walked out of the room.

The Doctor watched her go, then turned back to the Brigadier. "Anything else?" he asked.

"What about Rose?" the Brigadier wondered.

"I've no idea how long time'll let me keep her," the Doctor said, his shoulders slumping as he seemed to consider something the Brigadier couldn't see. "But I'm definitely mad enough to try."

It wasn't a great production this time. The Doctor blinked a few times, and then Joshua was right back to apologizing for making a mess, as he had been when the Brigadier first asked him to step into the office for a moment. If he had any memory at all of his brief stint as the Time Lord, it seemed to have been sealed neatly behind the same door that blocked the Doctor from view.

It was better this way, really, because Joshua probably would have been mortally embarrassed by an impromptu and inexplicable nap.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in reasonably cheerful conversation, with everyone indulging Rose's vast curiosity about what America was like. She was young and her enthusiasm was bright and contagious. Before the Brigadier actually knew how it had happened, he found himself agreeing that he and Doris should take a trip to Venice, and wouldn't it be wonderful to see Rome as well. Doris, of course, was either co-conspirator or, just possibly, instigator to Rose's bubbly charm.

When the sun went down, however, and Joshua retreated to his star-gazing perch on the balcony, Rose went with him. This finally gave the Brigadier time to voice his true concerns to his wife.

"What's happened?" Doris wondered. They'd been married for a very long time, after all, so it was very unlikely that he had any expression he could wear that Doris couldn't read at a glance.

The Brigadier glanced back at the door out onto the small balcony and made sure it was staying closed before he spoke. "I took the chance to call the Doctor out on this situation. It occurred to me that if he had improved to the point that he was indulging his incendiary tendencies on hospitals that he might be ready to rejoin the Universe."

"Yes, I know," Doris said, with that passive impatience that she always used when her husband was being particularly and unnecessarily long winded. Caught, the Brigadier twitched his moustache and smiled sheepishly. "What happened?" Doris continued after he indulged in another moment of watching the door and wondering if this was the best time and place for this conversation.

As Alistair relayed the details of his conversation with the Doctor, Doris listened attentively and nodded at the places where the discussion made particular sense to her. "And you're worried because…?" she finally asked.

"Not worried, really," Alistair claimed. "I'm almost disturbed, actually. He's always been so superior to us, preferred it that way on most occasions, I thought. But this time… I could easily begin to think that the Doctor would _rather_ be Joshua."

Doris tried very hard not to be condescending, she really did, but there were some moments that her husband's emotional obtuseness left her very little choice in the matter. Her smile must have given her away this time because he frowned sternly and let loose a gruff, "What?"

"Of course he prefers Joshua. He's always been a very lonely man, Alistair. You met him because he was on the run from his own people, became friends with him because they tried to imprison him here on Earth. They never were as clever as he is, obviously."

"What does that mean?" Alistair asked, his expression distant, probably with memories of a much younger man and a very different Doctor trying to work together without driving each other mad.

"If they really wanted to keep the Doctor here, all they would have had to do was give him a reason to remain. They tried giving him a responsibility, but he already had that without their intervention – a sense of duty, which probably explains why he and Joshua both attach themselves to you so easily." Doris tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, honestly, but this was the man who had walked calmly away from his ordinary life and onto a battlefield for no other known reason but that he thought he should.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Alistair asked, trying his most charming smile.

"Not while I'm breathing, no," Doris said. Nevertheless, she felt herself giving in to the smile and the fact that she wouldn't love him if he weren't completely himself, no matter how much he made her want to scream some times. "The point is, Joshua has a family and a support system, along with the love of a beautiful young woman. The Doctor's always been loved, even if he might not have wanted it or understood it. What he didn't have, what Joshua has that apparently attracts the Doctor, is a family. I don't know about the rest of you, but I love our nephew and I won't mind in the slightest having him around as long as he wants to stay."

Alistair sighed. "I'm going to need therapy before this is over," he said.

Doris chuckled lightly and went to fetch him a drink. It was probably the closest her husband was ever going to come to admitting his feelings on the matter at all.

* * *

"Did everything go ok, with Uncle Alistair, I mean?" Rose asked.

Joshua chuckled. "You've got to call him that."

"I can't help it!" she exclaimed. "He's just so… prickly, I guess, sometimes. Makes him seem… I dunno… more approachable."

"It was fine, you were right. He's not blaming me in the slightest. S'nice to know at least one person believes the damn things don't show up just because I'm there."

Rose frowned and turned completely away from the star field to stare at him. "People actually believe that?"

Joshua shrugged and turned back to the stars but Rose seized his arm and clung to it. "Tell me," she insisted.

"It's funny the number o' places I've been where things have gone wrong pretty much right after I showed up," he said grimly.

"But…" Rose stared at him, then out over the lawn, then back at him. "But that's not your fault. The lizards would've still been there if you hadn't been. It would've been worse, in fact. No telling how far they'd've gotten before someone stopped them if you hadn't found them."

Joshua's expression was sad and fond at once, and the kiss he placed on her lips was gentle but desperate. "Make that two people, then," he said after he broke the kiss.

They were silent for a long time, just watching the stars, indulging in that silent communication that seemed to flow with surprising ease between them. When Rose leaned her head drowsily against Joshua's shoulder, he finally found a reason to let the stars burn on alone. "Come to bed," he whispered.

Rose blushed. "I dunno if…" Her eyes darted nervously back to the house, and Joshua knew she was thinking of what his aunt and uncle would have to say about it.

"Just sleep with me, Rose, in my arms. Let me hold you, and we'll both be better for it."

Helplessly, Rose nodded soft agreement, took his hand, and let him lead her inside.

The stars burned down their endless silent contemplation on a quiet house. Beneath them, a small blue box sat, still for the first time in ages, humming a contented old lullaby back to the boundless heavens.


	48. Chapter 47

_**Never Quite Normal**_

**By: Jessa L'Rynn & Olfactory Ventriloquism**

_This work is a collaborative effort. If it had been just me, this story wouldn't be right at all, so big round of applause for my co-author, Olfactory Ventriloquism. -Jessa_

**Epic and Revealing Disclaimer: We don't own Doctor Who. We have abducted him and are trying to get him to sign himself over. Jack is actually on his knees thanking OV for getting "It's a Small World" out of his head. In his extreme gratitude, he reached through Jessa's hole in time and brought OV the gift of a Pair-o-Docs. After she pistol-whipped him for the pun, which seems to have impressed him in a way that is making the Doctor cringe, she noticed they are both in velvet. Jessa rescued the red one, but the green one's a lost cause. OV likes his hair, as soft things are good. The curent Doctor has risen to address the assembled group. "Now you're just pandering for attention. Aren't you done yet? Maybe when you're finished with this, we can talk. Until then, I don't think this is enough of a sample of your work. Get a portfolio and come talk to me then." At this point, he has rounded up Jack and the velvet pair-o-Docs and... oh, dear... stepped into that hole in reality Jessa just **_**had**_** to open. Jessa and OV are staring in horror as our contracts flutter to the floor, unsigned.**

**At this time, the Authors would like to apologize to the users of the local Kinkos and other copy shops for the vast amounts of time spent waiting in line behind them.**

Please note: This story carries an "M" rating for a lot of very good reasons.

* * *

**Chapter 47:**

Jackie Tyler was being slowly driven up the steep slope of Insanity Mountain, and was beginning to suspect she might enjoy the ride down the other side. It felt as if this whole arrangement had been constructed to rub in the fact that her eighteen year old daughter insisted on going around with a forty year old man. Since _that man_ had come back, Jackie practically never saw Rose anymore. She'd thought it was bad enough when Rose spent every minute on the phone to him while he'd been gone. She'd been wrong.

That first weekend, Rose hadn't come home once as far as Jackie knew. Since she knew that Rose hadn't taken so much as a pair of more sensible shoes, Jackie had to assume that they hadn't left his flat once. The first time Jackie saw Rose was when she got home from work on Monday, and she still had an absent, almost dreamy smile on her face.

Jackie had tried to be happy for her daughter, really she had. After all, she knew very well that Jimmy Stone had never managed to make Rose smile like that, and Rose deserved the best in everything. But, no matter how she tried, a small voice kept whispering to Jackie, "He better be good. He's had forty years of practice." Of course, this wasn't fair. He'd probably had closer to twenty years, twenty five if he'd been precocious, but even that meant he'd been at it longer than Rose had been alive, the randy old bastard.

It had surprised Jackie to learn that she'd actually had a small hope in her that he wouldn't be able to satisfy Rose, and that would be the end of that. Jackie was a little disturbed that she could be so uncharitable, but, dammit, this insanity was going to collapse sooner or later, and it would be better for everyone involved if it were sooner.

That Monday night, with that smile still slapped on, Rose quickly changed and blew out again saying she was going to meet the gang down at the coffee shop of all places. Jackie didn't think it was healthy for Rose to be changing for _that_ _man_. Okay, so it was coffee, but what did that herald? All too soon, it would be only leaving the house with permission and popping out babies.

With that smile that was rapidly getting on Jackie's nerves, Rose asked if Jackie wanted to come with them. Jackie tried not to seem bitter when refusing, but she wasn't sure if she succeeded.

Since then, for the past two weeks, on the nights Rose did come home, it was at only semi-decent hours, and her clothes were always in disarray, which, if Jackie didn't know what was causing this, would be curious, since Rose put such effort into her appearance before going out.

If Jackie was up when Rose came in, she saw her daughter stumble in as though drunk or as if something had made her weak at the knees. Her hair was invariably mussed. Often, Rose would giggle to herself. If she realized her mum had observed her, she would blush and say goodnight and sway into her bedroom, often with another giggle or a contented sigh as she went.

Jackie couldn't help being repulsed.

Then there were the nights that Rose didn't come home at all. Oddly, Jackie preferred these nights, though she suspected that she shouldn't. It was likely, after all, that whatever they were doing was exhausting Rose to the point of being unable to come home.

Still, Jackie enjoyed not having the evidence of _that man_ shagging her daughter shoved in her face. And, though she would never admit it aloud, Jackie liked having free reign of the flat without worrying that Rose might catch her with the bloke she was currently seeing. Jackie had taken back up with Jim, and Rose had taken an instant dislike to him for no readily apparent reason the first time Jackie had gone out with him. There was nothing particularly wrong with him, Rose said, she just didn't like him. So they were on an even footing there, because Jackie didn't like Rose's boyfriend, either.

All the same, Jackie Tyler was no exhibitionist, not when she was sober and thinking. She just wasn't very good at being discrete. Subtlety was no survival trait on the council estates.

Tuesday night, Rose said she was going down to the pub to humor her friends. Jackie was perversely amused at the thought of Himself having to do without his favorite to for an evening. She asked if there'd been a row, and Rose laughed as if that were and absurd suggestion.

"Joshua knows my mates are important to me, and that he'll have to make concessions for them on occasion." Rose told her with an irritatingly patient expression. Jackie stared at her daughter in a manner that clearly said that she believed he knew no such thing, but held her peace.

Rose came home from the pub early, and angry. Jackie could guess what might have been said, what Rose might have heard, but she couldn't bring it up or say anything about it since she sort of agreed with parts of it, anyway. Even though Rose seemed strained over the next week, the disgustingly cheery smiles and out half the night behavior continued anyway. By the weekend, the strain was gone, and Jackie wondered silently at that as well.

Several times over the next two weeks, Rose would invite her mum down to the coffee house. Every time, Jackie refused. There was something very wrong about a girl inviting her mum to tag along on a date, even a group date.

On her fifth invitation, Jackie decided to put a stop to this absurdity. She accepted. In surprise, Rose lowered the shirt she had been holding up to examine.

"Really?" she asked, staring wide-eyed. Jackie smiled, ready for the invitation to be retracted, and nodded. "That's great!" Rose enthused. Sighing, Jackie went to find her shoes.

* * *

The coffee house was comfortably furnished, and a few couples occupied corners, giving most of the room to the exuberant group.

Mickey was preening, having managed to fix a car his boss had given up on. Shireen was alternately stroking his ego and popping his inflated head. Keisha and Rose were talking animatedly; Joshua lounged on the couch with Rose, his arm wrapped easily around her as he chuckled at Shireen's treatment of Mickey. Jackie watched in fascination.

"S'right here," Shireen exclaimed, bringing the paper over and wedging herself onto the couch between Joshua and Keisha.

"Oi, some of us have ta breathe here," Joshua protested, but the smile never left his face. "Go put yer elbows in someone else's ribs."

"Ah, give over, you know you love it." Shireen blew him off casually and he turned a sad expression, not quite a pout, on Rose. (Jackie was glad he didn't actually pout; she was certain that would have made her sick.) Rose shrugged and shoved at him until he gave up and fetched a chair to perch in. Rose immediately decided he was a foot rest, apparently.

"Right here, Pale Horse is touring for their new album, Crimson Vindication."

"Who're they?" Keisha wondered.

"What's with a name like Pale Horse?" Mickey wanted to know.

"Ooh, I know that one!" Rose exclaimed gleefully, and proceeded to explain something about the Four Horsemen of the Acropolis or some such, with that ridiculous bloke of hers adding commentary, puffing up her head, and grinning at her like she was an undiscovered genius.

"Zed'll've come up with that one," the old man added. Shireen squealed like the star-crazed teenager she sorta was and demanded details.

Jackie sat back with her cappuccino and shook her head, almost unable to believe that this clever little thing who sounded so knowledgeable was her fashion-magazine wielding baby girl. Rose didn't sound completely alien like this - she sounded like Pete Tyler, in a lot of ways, all bouncing and random brilliance.

In the past, thoughts of Pete and his eventual fate, _their_ eventual fate, had been all it took to remind Jackie to keep both her own head and Rose's out of the clouds, their feet on level ground. Looking at Joshua and Rose together now, though, she wasn't so sure the level ground, the sensible way of doing things, was what was needed.

They were comfortable. They were _happy_. The acted like a single cohesive unit while, at the same time, being completely independent entities. They were constantly aware of each other while simultaneously including their friends effortlessly. They supported each other. It occurred to Jackie, albeit reluctantly, that she may have been unfair. Her daughter was changing for him, but he'd already changed for her. And the changing Rose was doing wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Jackie'd been afraid that this thing was a crazy love affair, a doomed romance that Rose would look back on with scars and regret, but now, she didn't know. Rose wasn't becoming smaller or hiding herself in the man's shadow.

Reminded by her own thoughts, Jackie realized she had seen a relationship like this once before. She'd been part of that relationship. Yes, it had hit the rocks and yes it had been so difficult some times, being in love with a dreamer, but Jackie knew deep in her heart, even knew back then before death had colored her perspective, that she would never have traded one minute of it, fighting, loving, or Rose. Jackie didn't get her happy ever after with Pete. And maybe Rose couldn't get hers, what with Joshua being forty already, but they could have a happy ever now.

Jackie was done interfering. She didn't have to like _that man_, but her daughter was happy. So, it was time to stop impeding them.

When Rose came home that night, Jackie wondered if maybe it was Rose who needed to stop being an impediment. For whatever reason, she loved him and it was obvious that she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. _That man_ acted like he would very happily be surgically joined at the hip. Jackie remembered the damage that moving in with Jimmy Stone had done, but Rose needed to get over it and get out.

First thing in the morning, Jackie made a phone call.

* * *

When Rose was told that Cousin Mo would be moving in, she was surprised, to say the very least.

"It's only for a little while, love, until she gets back on her feet," Jackie assured her. She expected Rose to start packing.

"No problem," Rose said. Jackie smiled. "I'll kip on the couch so she can have my bed." The smile vanished.

"You will do no such thing, Rose Marion Tyler." Jackie snapped. "Your boyfriend has a nice flat, and he wants you to be there with him, in his house and in his bed. And don't tell me you haven't gotten to that point, because I'm not a mug. You'd just as well move in with him, because you're not staying here!"

Rose stared at her mum, uncertain what to say. Since she was met by silence, Jackie let her tirade continue with barely a hitch.

"I don't care if you've been irreparably damaged by that bastard Jimmy Stone. Joshua punched him, so I don't think he's going to do what Jimmy did, he's nothing like that little coward. And I don't care what they're all saying down the pub, and yes, of course I know about that. It's not true. You know it; he knows it. Today, you are calling up your mates and you are arranging for them to help you move, and then you are starting to pack. Understand?"

Rose was staring at her mum, obviously dumbfounded. Tears shone in her eyes, and Jackie wondered if she should start apologizing for all of that. Then Rose launched herself at her mum and hugged her tight.

"Thank you."

* * *

She could move in with Wilson, Rose knew that. He'd probably need a roommate, really, but she'd bet anything she couldn't afford half his rent, never mind groceries or anything else. Electricians could ask for and get good money, and ones with the licenses and stuff Wilson had could do well freelancing on weekends, too, which she knew Wilson did.

She and Shireen had always talked about getting a place, but they'd never done it. No idea where either one of them would come up with any of the money they'd need to do it, though, really.

Truth be told, Rose wanted to move in with Joshua. Even if he tossed her out on her arse again next month, it would be worth it to her to have this month. But she'd been terrified of what her mum would say, her moving in with another bloke not six months after moving out on the last one. She'd been terrified that Joshua would hear the rumors that she was only with him for his money and believe it. She'd been terrified that she was being stupid for even wanting to move in with him, since he was such a solitary creature with everyone but her. She'd been terrified that she was so in love with him that it physically hurt some times to think about it, and she didn't want to do anything to mess up what they had.

Joshua had laid the money fears to rest himself, and the fears about wanting her around. Her mum had settled the issue of her opinion on the matter, even if Jackie still didn't like Joshua. Of course, it wasn't like she would be moving to Ireland with him or something, and Jackie could still see Rose practically every day if she wanted.

There was only one person who could settle her mind about messing things up with Joshua, though, and that was Rose herself. She had to decide, had to choose within her own heart if she was willing to take the chance of losing him by letting him see her day to day when she wasn't at her best.

She worried at it so constantly that she hardly slept that night, but she woke in the morning with a clear conscience and two conclusions.

The first was that she had seen him at something that was very probably his rock bottom worst and she didn't think any less of him for it. He deserved the same chance that he had given her - to see the whole her and choose for himself. She trusted him enough to trust him with that.

The second was that she wanted to be with him, as fully as she could be for as long as he would have her. Whether that was days or months or ages, she didn't know now, but it was a risk she really needed to take.

No matter what happened, never knowing was a lot worse than finding out.

* * *

"Problem?" Wilson asked, taking in Rose's dazed and befuddled expression. It was different than her usual morning expression of, "Give me caffeine if you want to live," so he figured something was up.

"I'm being thrown out," Rose said. "My mum is throwing me out." She looked at Wilson and a grin like sheer lunacy lit her pretty face. Her eyes danced. "My mum is throwing me out of the flat so my cousin Mo can move in an' have my room."

"O... K." Wilson reached over and held a hand to Rose's forehead. She didn't seem to be feverish, so why was she smiling over something that was probably heart-breaking news? "Are you... gonna need a place to stay?"

Rose giggled. "That's just it. Mo don't really need a place. She lives with her mum, and they never got on is all. Plus it's way out of the way, no chance to get a good job, but she could easily find work in London. She's not got her A-levels, either, but she did fine on her GCSE's, same's me. Mum's been saying she needed to come stay with us for years, but she also said we could maybe get a bigger flat or bunk beds or something. Never actually considered tossing me before. She let me leave most of my stuff when I moved in with Jimmy, even. This time, she says I gotta pack."

"Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry," said Wilson.

Rose laughed merrily. "Don't you get it?" Incredulously, Wilson shook his head, almost afraid the shock had gotten to her. Rose waved a friendly hand to Joseph as he strode briskly across the store in a serious managerial fashion. Then she set to folding t-shirts on a display so she could talk quietly and not be noticed too much. "Joshua asked me to move in with him two weeks ago. I've been stalling, because... well, a lot of reasons."

"That stupid ex of your's," Wilson observed. "Wanna help me set him up with Alex?"

"Jimmy's in jail," Rose reminded Wilson. "An' he's staying there, remember?"

"Oh, right. Pulled a knife," Wilson remembered.

"But, the thing is, Mum don't like Joshua, right. An' she knows he'll take me in any time. So why's she throwing me out, if she's so dead set against us together?"

"Are you saying this is your mum's way of being clever?"

"Devious, int she?"

Wilson shook his head in utter amazement at the weird brilliance that was Jackie Tyler. "She should stand for Parliament," he decided.

Rose chortled merrily. "So, you gonna come help me move?"

"And meet this strange woman and see your lovely lover again? You bet."

"Hey!" Rose exclaimed with mock severity. "No ogling my boyfriend."

"Fine," Wilson said. Then, he leaned in close. "But he's got such a lovely arse."

"Don't have to tell me that," Rose agreed, and rolled her eyes. "Tell ya what, though, Mick'll probably be there, an' no one'll tell you off for ogling him."

Wilson grinned and affected a soft moan. "And another lovely bum. I'm in."

Rose slapped him playfully on the arm and then they both got to actual work.

* * *

"We'll have to delay the trip to France just a little longer," Rose said apologetically. She and Joshua were currently running through the park, indulging in the habit they'd taken up three nights a week at least. Actual joggers always gave the pair of them annoyed glances as they sprinted past and more than once Joshua had threatened under his breath to bring a camera to take pictures of people who actually stopped and stared at them.

Joshua frowned, his grip on her hand tightening reflexively. "What's wrong, love?"

"Not wrong, as such. Just... I think I'll need some time to get settled into your flat, if that's ok?"

Joshua stopped still as a statue. His grip on her hand jerked Rose up short, too, and she glanced up at him nervously, almost afraid to meet his eyes. This was why she wanted to be casual about it; she was afraid he'd change his mind. "You're... you've... you're gonna... you've decided?"

Rose smiled shyly at the look of incredulous wonder on his face. "Yeah," she said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed. Grinning, she swung their bound hands and bounced at him cheerfully. "You're stuck with me."

Joshua's eyes were bright and glowing, a pair of brilliant sapphires in the June twilight. His face shone suddenly with that broad, ecstatic grin she had come to love so much in the months she had known him. He snatched her up, laughter like music tumbling from his lips as he spun her around under the London sky. "Fantastic!" he exclaimed grandly, only seconds before his mouth covered hers.

Rose had to agree, as he snogged her cross-eyed, that fantastic was really the right word for the best occasions.

* * *

It was like a bloody mad house in there, Joshua thought, leaning against the building and staring up at his flat in a sort of train-wreck-observer fascination. Rose's hyperactive, gabbling girlfriends, Mickey, and the effete and charming Wilson (or did he count as one of the girlfriends? Tough call, that.) had descended on the place first thing this morning. Then they all trooped across to the Estate to submit themselves to the will of Field Marshal Jackie Tyler and her marching orders.

Joshua had spent a great deal of that time imagining Jackie and Uncle Alistair trying to shout each other down across a parade ground. The picture in his mind had kept him entertained for hours and he graciously followed directions with a smile on his face that was only suspicious enough for Rose to notice.

Speaking of which...

Uncle Alistair's car pulled up in front of the flat and Joshua leaned his head back and groaned. Aunt Doris would want to feed the entire pack of them, just watch.

"Hello dear, what are you doing out here?" Aunt Doris asked, as Uncle Alistair let her out the passenger side. "You don't mind us stopping by, do you?"

Rose and her entire entourage came tumbling out the front of the building. To Joshua's surprise, she was hugging and saying goodbye to three of the four, leaving just Shireen hanging back on the stairs. Mickey and Wilson both came over and shook his hand. Keisha graciously accepted a ride to somewhere with Mickey, and they were all three gone like that. Joshua blinked.

"My goodness," Aunt Doris said, while Uncle Alistair looked at Joshua and smirked.

Rose had leaned back against the wall, looking about like Joshua felt, but started when she heard Aunt Doris's exclamation. She shoved her hair out of her face, scuffed a toe on the pavement and smiled shyly. "Hi," she said.

She was sweaty and looked tired and rumpled and a bit red in the face from more than just the embarrassment. Joshua grinned and decided she was still completely beautiful.

Introductions were made and the new party of five all trooped back upstairs. Joshua looked at the transformation of his flat and sighed. There were boxes everywhere, really, but he'd be willing to bet most of them were very likely redundant.

"Sorry about the mess," Rose apologized.

Doris chuckled. "Everything's at least stacked neatly," she said cheerfully. "This place has been known to look like the kitchen exploded, remember."

"It wasn't that bad," Joshua protested mildly.

Shireen went into the loo for a bit while Rose looked around and seemed to be trying to decide the fastest way to make all the boxes vanish. When Shireen came out again, she was laughing. "What in the world is all that chicken scratch on the mirror?"

Joshua and Rose looked at each other and they both started laughing. "I really need ta clean that up," Joshua said ruefully. "But it's permanent ink, so it's gonna take a razor blade or something to get it off."

"How about some lunch?" Doris suggested, as Joshua knew she would.

Rose went with her into the kitchen, dragging Shireen along, and Joshua sank into the sofa and sighed. "Are you all right, son?" the Brigadier asked.

"Eh, 'm fine," he said cheerfully, remembering how he had spent his morning. "Was just wondering how much more company to expect is all."

Apparently, he'd said exactly the wrong thing if he wanted fate to let him off the hook. The door buzzer sounded. He stared at the door, remembering he'd meant to dismantle that. Rose came in, looked at him quizzically, then went to see who it was.

She looked, from the sudden set of her shoulders, as if she was strongly considering slamming it shut again when the door opened to a quick, "Rose, you forgot... oh."

Odds were, really, that Jackie Tyler had been lying in wait for exactly this moment. Joshua was almost certain of that. "Come in, Mrs. Tyler," he said as he stood up and went to take the box she was carrying.

Even after the door had closed, even after the box had been taken into the bedroom and left there to be unpacked, even after Aunt Doris had been informed there was one more for lunch, Rose stood staring at the doorway in undisguised horror.

* * *

The kitchen, Rose decided, was too small at the moment. While there was plenty of room for two people working on the same topic, the crowd of five in there at the moment was far too many. Since Doris was cooking something, and Joshua was trying to convert her mum to the religion of proper tea preparation, Rose and Shireen were probably just getting in the way, so she caught her friend's arm and led her off.

The introductions had gone, much to Rose's surprise, shockingly well. She was reasonably certain that the Brigadier and her mum would have it out some day, because they'd both stood there looking polite and as intimidating as possible. Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart might impress his men, the entire secret agency he'd once worked for, alien menaces, his formidable nephew, and even the Queen of England. He still wasn't anywhere near big enough to tower over Jackie Tyler, even though he was very nearly tall as Joshua, which put him head and shoulders over Rose's mother, easily.

Doris had charmed them both into reasonable behavior, not that Joshua's uncle would ever let on that he was behaving in a manner that was anything different from usual. Only Jackie would give herself away in that manner. She didn't like Joshua and, apparently, she had already decided she wasn't going to like his uncle, either.

Said uncle was in the music room muttering into his mobile, so Rose and Shireen decided to go into the living room and start unpacking. Rose set her small, rather embarrassing collection of books down next to the book shelf - she'd let Joshua decide where they went. Her dog-eared and redundant Harry Potter paperbacks were going to look ridiculous next to his hard bound copies. Her handful of Mills and Boone novels were never going to fit in with his Shakespeare and Tolstoy. She didn't even want to know what he'd think of her collection of children's novels.

"Hitchhiker's Guide!" Shireen teased, and dragged that book out to wave it distractingly in front of Rose's face.

"Oi, careful with that one," Joshua said, reappearing in the kitchen doorway. "S'a classic, an' I've not got a copy."

"Rose loves this thing," Shireen said over her shoulder while Rose buried her face in her hands. "We were always afraid she was gonna run off with an alien."

Joshua chuckled at this, his expression bright and gentle as he considered her. Rose dove into the box to find something, anything, to change the subject. The answer came to her almost immediately as she located her small collection of DVDs and found one her gran had given her a couple Christmases ago. "Robin Hood!" she exclaimed cheerfully, holding it up for Joshua to see. "You seen this one?"

Joshua migrated over and took the DVD from her hands. "Yeah, I have. Completely forgot about it, though."

Shireen looked at the DVD and shrugged. "I don't much care for that one. The love song's weird, an' it doesn't have Kevin Costner's bum in it."

"The other one doesn't have Kevin Costner's bum in it either," said Rose, exasperated. "How many times do I have to tell you? Americans use body doubles."

"She's right," Joshua said. "What's wrong with the song?"

"It doesn't make sense," Shireen said.

Rose nodded emphatically. "What's it mean, grown up inside of her?"

"It's literary," Joshua said blandly, giving them both his best "I pity you uncultured souls" expression. "You know, poetry?"

"Ohhh, poetry," Shireen said sarcastically.

Rose snorted, and grinned up at her boyfriend, watching him start to smile again in response. "What is he, like a watermelon seed?" she asked cheekily.

Joshua chortled with mirth and folded his lanky frame down next to them. "Watermelon seeds don't grow inside of people, Rose."

"Neither do boyfriends," she insisted promptly.

If the look on Joshua's face had been any more wicked, Rose was reasonably certain her clothes would have crawled off of her and hidden themselves in shame. His eyes sparkled with the suggestion of utter filth. Unable to help herself, Rose blushed the exact same color as his burgandy jumper. Shireen fell back on the floor and hooted with laughter.

For the first time ever, she was happy to hear her mum's voice while she was with Joshua.

"Lunch, you lot," Jackie called. Shireen scampered immediately, giggling and shooting looks back at her friend to see the blush get worse.

"You all right there Rose?" Joshua asked with entirely faked politeness.

"Oh my God," was all Rose could say. She was never, ever going to be able to watch that movie again.

Joshua leaned in close to her ear. "Later, love. Let's get this lot gone, an' I'll make you call me god all night."

She batted at him ineffectually and he helped her to her feet anyway. Rose tried to compose herself before she entered the kitchen, but Shireen started laughing at them again the instant they entered the room.

"Are you all right, love?" Jackie asked. She was used to Shireen's random outbursts for no readily apparent reason so she didn't even give the girl a suspicious glance, unlike Doris who seemed to decide almost immediately that she didn't want to know. Jackie reached for Rose's forehead. "Not coming down with anything? You look a bit flushed."

"'M fine," Rose squeaked. "Jus' all this movin' and unpacking and stuff."

"I thought you were asking Joshua about Robin Hood," Shireen teased.

Rose shot her friend a dirty look, which bounced harmlessly off Shireen's armor of evil-and-loving-it. Everyone, even the newly turned-up Brigadier was looking with interest, so Rose said, "That thing, where Prince John's always yelping for his mummy, right? Was she really that bad?"

Joshua grinned and tapped her nose, admiration in his eyes as he winked at her. "Eleanor of Acquitane," he said. "Oh, yeah. Related by birth or marriage to four kings, five if you count her son Henry the Young King, who was crowned by his father as a kid but didn't live to get his throne. Duchess in her own right, actually convicted of witchcraft an' lived ta tell about it. Original inventor of the trashy romance novel, patron of the arts. Signed a document once - '_Eleanora, Irae Dei, Rex Anglorum_: Eleanor, by the Wrath of God, King of the English. She wasn't claiming to be Queen Regent, you understand, nor Dowager, but claiming the throne of England for her own. Died at the age of 82, after successfully defending a besieged fort at the age of 80. One of the scariest women in human history. Completely fantastic."

Rose was delighted when her mother spoke up, looking reluctantly impressed. "Who's the scariest then?" she asked, completely fascinated.

Joshua grinned at her. "Dunno, Jackie Tyler, what're you gonna do next?"

* * *

When the couple were finally left alone that evening, they exchanged a look of utter satisfaction before collapsing on the sofa, unable and unwilling to move. "Domestic," Rose complained.

Joshua laughed lightly and brushed her hair back from her face. "That's my line," he said.

"Yeah, but you didn't say it yet, an' somebody had to. Besides, whose bright idea was Mum and Uncle Alistair in the same place, anyway?"

Joshua shrugged. "Had to happen sooner or later," he said, and lowered his head to kiss her gently.

"We've got a lot of work to do," Rose observed accurately when he broke the kiss.

"I know," Joshua agreed. "And a lot of things to do together an' learn about each other. Domestics and a little adventure too, if we find it or it finds us."

"Wouldn't trade it," Rose said fervently. "Even if we aren't normal."

"The interesting people are never quite normal, really." Joshua reached around her and took her hand. "So what do you say, Rose Tyler? Not a bad life?"

She laughed and squeezed his hand tightly. "Better with us."

Their story, Rose thought, had seemed to take such a very long time to get to the happy part. Now she realized, as she looked around their flat, at a new chapter that lay spread out around them, that their story, the true story of the two of them together, was only just now getting started.

* * *

_**Authors' Notes:** This fic started out to be a single story of reasonable size. It has already exceeded that mark and all our hopes and expectations as well. We are therefore ending the first story here. Look for the sequel after the first of April. Another important development that you need to be aware of is this: all future stories in this series will be published under the username **Pairadox Timeline**. There's a link on Jessa's page if you'd like to add it, and further developments will also be posted there. Tune in next time for the continued adventures of Rose, Joshua, and the whole wacky gang. The silent partner says 'hi', but only because she's been told to do. She's going back to her cave, now. To write, yes? Good. _

_We want to thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, or silently enjoying "Never Quite Normal." Hope to see you next fic around. Thank you and good night._


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